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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022226137 


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THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY 

(Trade  Marki 


Works  of 
ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 


The  Little  Colonel  Ser'-ss 

(.Trade  Mark,  Reg.  U.  S.  Pat.  Of.) 
Each  one  vol.,   large  12mo,   cloth,   illustrated 

The   Little   Colonel    Stories      .  .  .  .  . 

(Containing  in  one  volume  the  three  stories 
"  The  Little  Colonel,"  "  The  Giant  Scissors,' 
and  "  Two  Little  Knights  of  Kentucky.") 

The  Little  Colonel's  House  Party   . 

The  Little  Colonel's  Holidays 

The  Little  Colonel's  Hero        .... 

The  Little  Colonel  at  Boarding-School     . 

The  Little  Colonel  in  Arizona 

The  Little  Colonel's  Christmas    Vacation 

The  Little  Colonel:  Maid  of  Honof. 

The  Little  Colonel's  Knight  Comes    Riding 

The  Little  Colonel's  Chum:    Mary   Ware 

Mary  Ware    in   Texas      ..... 

Mary  Ware's   Promised    Land 

The  above  12  vols.,   boxed,  as  a  set 


The  Little  Colonel  Good  Times   Book      . 
The  Little  Colonel  Doll  Book— First    Series    . 
The  Little  Colonel  Doll  Book — Second    Series 

Illustrated  Holiday  Edition 

The  Little  Colonel  Stories         .  .  .  .  . 

(With  16  plates  in  full  color,  and  many  marginal 
cuts  in  tints.) 

Cosy  Comer  Series 
Each  one  vol.,  thin  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated 
The   Little    Colonel 
The  Giant   Scissors 
Two  Little  Knights  of  Kentucky 
Big  Brother     .... 
Ole  Mammy's  Torment   . 
The  Story  of  Dago 
Cicely      ..... 
Aunt  'Liza's  Hero 
The  Quilt  that  Jack  Built 
Flip's  "  Islands  of  Providence  " 
Mildred's    Inheritance 
The  Little  Man  in  Motley 

Other  Books 

The  Story  of  the  Red  Cross    .  , 

Joel:    A  Boy  of  Galilee    . 

The   Road  of  the  Loving  Heart 

In  the  Desert  of  Waiting 

The   Three   Weavers 

Keeping  Tryst 

The  Legend  of  the  Bleeding  Heart 

The  Rescue  of  the  Princess  Winsome 

The  Jester's  Sword 

Asa   Holmes  .... 

Travelers  Five  Along  Life's  Highway 


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THE    PAGE 
53  Beacon  Street 


COMPANY 

Boston,  Mass. 


"MALCOLM    WENT  ON    CUTTING." 

(See  page  137.) 


Cbe  cmie  €oioner$ 
Bouse  Party 

By  ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 

Author  of"  The  Little  Colonel,"  "  Tv/o  Little  Knights 
of  Kentucky,"  "  The  Story  of  Dafeo,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  LOUIS  MEYNELL 


m. 


m 


BOSTON 
COMPANY 


THE    PAGE 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  igoo 
By  The  Page  Company 

All  rights  reserved 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


Thirty-sixth  Impression,  February,  1923 


PRINTED  BY   C.  H.  SIMONDS   COMPANY 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  U,  S.  A. 


CONTENTS. 


OHAPTEK 

I.  The  Invitations  Are  Sent         .        , 

II.  "One  Flew  into  the  Cuckoo's  Nest" 

Hi.  "One  Flew  East"       .... 

IV.  "  One  Flew  West  "      .        .        .        . 

V.  Betty  Reaches  the  "House  Beautiful" 

VI.  The  Enchanted  Necklace 

VII.  Bits  from  Betty's  Diary    . 

VIII.  The  Gypsy  Fortune-teller 

IX.  Her  Sacred  Promise 

X.  Found  Out    . 

XI.  Some  Stories  and  a  Poem 

XII.  A  Pillow-case  Party 

XIII.  More  Measles 

XIV.  A  Long  Night 
XV.  "  The  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart  "  . 

XVI.  A  Feast  of  Lanterns.        .        ,       . 


PAGE 
II 

25 

39 

50 

62 

81 

96 

no 

128 

ISO 

171 

189 

205 

216 

233 
248 


308 


oqt>- 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


>* Malcolm  went  on  cutting"  .       Frontispiea 

«"Oh,  run  and  get  it,  quick,  Davy/  she  cried"  35 
"She   sorted   the    ribbons   and    examined   thb 

gloves'*  .  ,  .  ,  .  .  .  '59 
«« Betty  began  the  story*"       ,        ....      83 

««*rM    GLAD    THAT    I    DON'T    HAVE    TO    LIVE    IN    THE 

country  the  year  round!'"  ,        .        .110 

"There  was  one  wild  scream  after  another**.  167 
«*but    we   caught   the   chickens   and   brought 

them  back'"  ..,,..,.  228 
««« Let's  all  sit  down  on  the  steps'"*   .       <,       ,    255 


THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S    HOUSE 

(Trade  Mark) 

PARTY, 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE   INVITATIONS   ARE   SENT. 

Down  the  long  avenue  that  led  from  the  house  to 
the  great  entrance  gate  came  the  Little  Colonel  on 
her  pony.  It  was  a  sweet,  white  way  that  morning, 
filled  with  the  breath  of  the  locusts ;  white  overhead 
where  the  giant  trees  locked  branches  to  make  an 
arch  of  bloom  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length, 
and  white  underneath  where  the  fallen  blossoms  lay 
like  scattered  snowflakes  along  the  path. 

Everybody  in  Lloydsboro  Valley  knew  Locust. 
"It  is  one  of  the  prettiest  places  in  all  Kentucky," 
they  were  fond  of  saying,  and  every  visitor  to  the 
Valley  was  taken  past  the  great  entrance  gate  to 
admire    the    long    rows    of    stately   old  trees,   and 

II 


12        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

the  great  stone  house  at  the  end,  whose  pillars 
gleamed  white  through  the  Virginia  creeper  that 
nearly  covered  it. 

Everybody  knew  old  Colonel  Lloyd,  too,  the  owner 
of  the  place.  He  also  was  often  pointed  out  to  the 
summer  visitors.  Some  people  called  attention  to 
him  because  he  was  an  old  Confederate  soldier  who 
had  given  his  good  right  arm  to  the  cause  he  loved, 
some  because  they  thought  he  resembled  Napoleon, 
and  others  because  they  had  some  amusing  tale  to 
tell  of  the  eccentric  things  he  had  said  or  done. 

Nearly  every  one  who  pointed  out  the  imposing 
figure,  which  was  clad  always  in  white  duck  or  linen 
in  the  summer,  and  wrapped  in  a  picturesque  military 
cape  in  winter,  added  the  remark :  "  And  he  is  the 
Little  Colonel's  grandfather."  To  be  the  grand- 
father of  such  an  attractive  little  bunch  of  mischief 
as  Lloyd  Sherman  was  when  she  first  came  to  the 
Valley  was  a  distinction  of  which  any  man  might 
well  be  proud,  and  Colonel  Lloyd  was  proud  of  it. 
He  was  proud  of  the  fact  that  she  had  inherited  his 
lordly  manner,  his  hot  temper,  and  imperious  ways. 
It  pleased  him  that  people  had  given  her  his  title 
of  Colonel  on  account  of  the  resemblance  to  himself. 
She  had  outgrown  it  somewhat  since  she  had  first 
been  nicknamed  the  Little  Colonel.     Then  she  was 


THE  INVITATIONS  ARE  SENT.  1 3 

only  a  spoiled  baby  of  five ;  but  now  his  pride  in  her 
was  even  greater,  since  she  had  grown  into  a  womanly 
little  maid  of  eleven.  He  was  proud  of  her  delicate, 
flower-like  beauty,  of  her  dainty  ways,  and  all  her 
little  schoolgirl  accomplishments. 

"  She  is  like  those  who  have  gone  before,"  he  used 
to  say  to  himself  sometimes,  pacing  slowly  back 
and  forth  under  the  locusts ;  and  the  bloom-tipped 
branches  above  would  nod  to  each  other  as  if  they 
understood.  "Yes-s,  yes-s,"  they  whispered  in  the 
soft  lisping  language  of  the  leaves,  "  we  know !  She's 
like  Amanthis,  —  sweet-souled  and  starry-eyed  ;  we 
were  here  when  you  brought  her  home,  a  bride. 
She's  like  Amanthis !    Like  Amanthis !  " 

Under  the  blossoms  rode  the  Little  Colonel,  all  in 
white  herself  this  May  morning,  except  the  little 
Napoleon  hat  of  black  velvet,  set  jauntily  over  her 
short  light  hair.  Into  the  cockade  she  had  stuck 
a  spray  of  locust  blossoms,  and  as  she  rode  slowly 
along  she  fastened  a  bunch  of  them  behind  each  ear 
of  her  pony,  whose  coat  was  as  soft  and  black  as  the 
velvet  of  her  hat.  "  Tarbaby "  she  called  him, 
partly  because  he  was  so  black,  and  partly  because 
that  was  the  name  of  her  favourite  Uncle  Remus 
story. 

"  There ! "  she  exclaimed,  when  the  flowers  were 


14        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

fastened  to  her  satisfaction.  "  Yo'  lookin'  mighty 
fine  this  mawnin',  Tarbaby  !  Maybe  I'll  take  you 
visitin'  aftah  I've  been  to  the  post-office  and  mailed 
these  lettahs.  You  didn't  know  that  Judge  Moore's 
place  is  open  for  the  summah,  did  you,  and  that  all 
the  family  came  out  yesta'day  ?  Well,  they  did,  and 
if  Bobby  Moore  isn't  ovah  to  my  house  by  the  time 
we  get  back  home,  we'll  go  ovah  to  Bobby's." 

As  she  spoke,  she  passed  through  the  gate  at  the 
end  of  the  avenue  and  turned  into  the  public  road, 
a  wide  pike  with  a  railroad  track  on  one  side  of  it 
and  a  bridle-path  on  the  other.  Two  minutes'  brisk 
canter  brought  her  to  another  gate,  one  that  had 
been  closed  all  winter,  and  one  that  she  was  greatly 
interested  in,  because  it  led  to  Judge  Moore's  house. 
Judge  Moore  was  Rob's  grandfather,  and  she  and 
Rob  had  played  together  every  summer  since  she 
could  remember. 

The  wide  white  gate  was  standing  open  now,  and 
she  drew  rein,  peering  anxiously  in.  She  hoped  for 
the  sight  of  a  familiar  freckled  face  or  the  sound  of 
a  welcoming  whoop.  But  it  was  so  still  everywhere 
that  all  she  saw  was  the  squirrels  playing  hide  and 
seek  in  the  beech-grove  around  the  house,  and  all 
she  heard  was  the  fearless  cry,  "  Pewee  !  pewee  !  "  of 
a  little  bird  perched  in  a  tree  overarching  the  gate. 


THE  INVITATIONS  ARE  SENT.  1 5 

It  balanced  itself  on  the  limb,  leaning  over  and  cock- 
ing its  bright  bead-like  eyes  at  her,  as  if  admiring  tht 
sight. 

What  it  saw  was  a  slender  girl  of  eleven,  taller 
than  most  children  of  that  age,  and  more  graceful. 
There  was  a  colour  in  her  cheek  like  the  delicate 
pink  of  a  wild  rose,  and  the  big  hazel  eyes  had  a 
roguish  twinkle  in  them,  as  they  looked  out  fearlessly 
on  the  world  from  under  the  little  Napoleon  hat  with 
its  nodding  cockade  of  locust  blossoms. 

"There's  nobody  in  sight,  Tarbaby,"  said  the  Little 
Colonel,  "and  there  isn't  time  to  go  in  befo'  we've 
been  to  the  post-ofhce,  so  we  might  as  well  be  trav- 
ellin*  on." 

She  was  turning  slowly  away  when  down  the  pike 
behind  her  came  the  quick  beat  of  a  horse's  hoofs 
and  a  shrill  whistle.  A  twelve-year-old  boy  was 
riding  toward  her  as  fast  as  his  big  gray  horse  could 
carry  him.  He  was  riding  bareback,  straight  and 
lithe  as  a  young  Indian,  his  cap  pushed  to  the  back 
of  his  head.  He  snatched  it  off  with  a  flourish  as  he 
came  within  speaking  distance  of  the  Little  Colonel, 
his  freckled  face  all  ashine  with  pleasure. 

"  Hello !  Lloyd,"  he  called,  "  I  was  just  going  to 
your  house." 

"  And   I  was  looking   for  you,  Bobby,"  she  an- 


l6        THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

swered,  as  informally  as  if  it  were  only  yesterday  they 
had  parted,  instead  of  eight  months  before. 

"  Come  and  go  down  to  the  post-office  with  me. 
I  must  take  these  lettahs." 

"All  right,"  said  Rob.  wheeling  the  gray  horse 
around  beside  the  black  pony,  and  smiling  broadly 
as  he  looked  down  into  the  Little  Colonel's  welcoming 
eyes.  "  You  don't  know  how  good  it  feels  to  get 
back  to  the  country  again,  Lloyd.  I  could  hardly 
wait  for  school  to  close,  when  I'd  think  about  the 
fish  waiting  for  me  out  here  in  the  creek,  and  the 
wild  strawberries  getting  ripe,  and  the  horses  just 
spoiling  to  be  exercised.  It  was  more  than  I  could 
stand.     What  have  you  been  doing  all  winter }  " 

"  Oh,  the  same  old  things  :  school  and  music  les- 
sons, and  good  times  in  the  evenin'  with  mothah  and 
papa  Jack  and  grandfathah." 

As  they  jogged  along,  side  by  side,  the  Little 
Colonel  chatting  gaily  of  all  that  had  happened  since 
their  last  meeting,  Rob  kept  casting  curious  glances 
at  her.  "What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself, 
Lloyd  Sherman  } "  he  demanded,  finally.  "  You  look 
so  —  so  different  !^'  There  was  such  a  puzzled  ex- 
pression in  his  sharp  gray  eyes  that  the  Little  Colone? 
laughed.     Then  her  hand  flew  up  to  her  head. 

"^ Don't  you  see.''  I've  had  my  hair  cut.     I  had  to 


THE  INVITATIONS  ARE  SENT.  1 7 

beg  and  beg  befo'  mothah  and  papa  Jack  would  let 
me  have  it  done;  but  it  was  so  long,  —  away  below 
my  waist,  —  and  stick  a  bothah.  It  had  to  be  brushed 
and  plaited  a  dozen  times  a  day." 

"  I  don't  like  it  that  way.  It  isn't  a  bit  becoming," 
said  Rob,  with  the  frankness  of  old  comradeship. 
"  You  look  like  a  boy.     Why,  it  is  as  short  as  mine." 

"  I  don't  care,"  answered  \Xoy^,  her  eyes  flashing 
dangerously.  "  It's  comfortable  this  way,  and  grand- 
fathah  likes  it.  He  says  he's  got  his  Little  Colonel 
back  again  now,  and  he  sent  to  town  for  this  Napo- 
leon hat  like  the  ones  I  used  to  weah  when  I  was  a 
little  thing." 

"  When  you  were  a  little  thing !  '*  laughed  Rob, 
teasingly.  "  What  do  you  think  you  are  now,  missy  ? 
You're  head  and  shoulders  shorter  than  I  am." 

"  I'm  eleven  yeahs  old,  anyway,  I'd  have  you  to 
undahstand,  Bobby  Moore,"  answered  the  Little 
Colonel,  with  such  dignity  that  Rob  wished  he  hadn't 
spoken.  "  I  was  eleven  last  week.  That  was  one 
of  my  birthday  presents,  havin'  my  own  way  about 
cuttin'  my  hair,  and  anothah  was  the  house  pahty. 
Oh,  you  don't  know  anything  about  the  house 
pahty  I'm  to  have  in  June,  do  you ! "  she  cried, 
every  trace  of  displeasure  vanishing  at  the  thought. 
"  Grandfathah  and   papa  Jack  are  goin'   away  fo'  a 


1 8        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

month  to  some  mineral  springs  in  Va'ginia,  and  I'm  to 
have  my  house  pahty  in  June  to  keep  mothah  and  me 
from  bein'  lonesome.  It  will  not  be  a  very  big  one, 
only  three  girls  to  spend  June  with  me,  but  mothah 
says  we  can  have  picnics  every  day  if  we  want  to, 
and  invite  all  the  boys  and  girls  in  the  Valley,  and 
we  can  have  the  house  full  from  mawnin'  till  night. 
I'll  invite  you  right  now  for  every  day  that  you  want 
to  come.  We'll  expect  you  at  all  the  pahties  and 
picnics  and  candy-pullin's  that  we  have.  I  want  you 
to  help  me  give  the  girls  a  good  time,  Bobby." 

Rob  whirled  his  cap  around  his  head  with  a 
"  Whe-ew !  Jolly  for  you  !  "  before  he  answered  more 
politely,  "Thank  you,  Lloyd,  you  can  count  on  me 
for  my  part.  I'll  be  on  hand  every  time  you  turn 
around,  if  you  want  me.     Who  all's  coming } " 

For  answer  Lloyd  held  up  the  three  letters  she 
was  carrying,  and  let  him  see  the  first  address,  writ- 
ten in  Mrs.  Sherman's  flowing  hand. 

Miss  Etigenia  Forbes^ 

The   Waldorf-Astoria^ 

New   York  City. 

«  Well,  who  is  she }  "  he  asked,  reading  it  aloud. 
"  Eugenia  is  a  sort  of  cousin  of  mine,"  explained 
Lloyd.     "At   least   her   fathah  and  my  fathah  arc 


THE  INVITATIONS  ARE  SENT.  1 9 

related  in  some  way.  I  used  to  know  her  when  we 
Hved  in  New  York,  but  I  haven't  seen  her  since  we 
left.  I  was  tive  then  and  she  was  seven,  so  she  must 
be  neahly  thirteen  yeahs  old  now.  When  we  played 
togethah  she  would  scream  and  scream  if  I  didn't 
give  up  to  her  in  everything,  and  as  I  had  a  bad  tem- 
pah,  too,  we  were  always  f ussin'.  She  was  dreadfully 
spoiled.  I'll  nevah  fo'get  how  my  hand  bled  one 
day  when  she  bit  it,  or  how  she  clawed  my  face  till 
it  looked  as  if  a  tigah  had  scratched  it." 

"  Then  what  did  you  do .'' "  asked  Rob,  with  a  grin> 
He  had  experimented  with  Lloyd's  temper  himself  in 
the  past. 

"  I  believe  that  that  was  the  time  I  pounded  her 
on  the  back  with  my  little  red  chair,"  answered 
Lloyd,  laughing  at  the  recollection.  "  Or  maybe  it 
was  the  time  I  banged  her  ovah  the  head  with  a  toy 
teakettle.  I  remembah  I  did  both  those  bad  things, 
and  that  we  were  always  m  trouble  whenevah  we 
were  togethah.  I  didn't  want  mothah  to  invite  her, 
but  she  said  she  felt  that  we  ought  to.  Eugenia's 
mothah  is  dead.  She  died  three  yeahs  ago,  and  since 
then  she's  been  kept  in  a  boa'din"  school  most  of  the 
time.  When  she's  not  away  at  school  she  stays  in 
some  big  hotel  with  her  fathah,  eithah  in  New  York 
or  at  some  summah  resort.     He  is  always  so  busy 


20        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

there's  no  one  to  pay  any  attention  to  her  but  her 
maid.  They  are  very  wealthy,  and  Eugenia  has  had 
the  best  of  everything  so  long  that  I'm  afraid  she'll 
find  the  Valley  dreadfully  poah  and  poky.  I  imag- 
ine she's  stuck  up,  too.  She  used  to  be,  and  she's 
always  had  her  own  way  about  everything." 

"Number  one  doesn't  sound  very  inviting,"  said 
Rob,  with  a  sour  grimace.  "  Who  is  your  number 
two  ? "     Lloyd  held  out  the  second  envelope. 

Miss  Joyce   Ware, 

Plainsvillef 

Kansas. 

«« I  nevah  saw  her,"  said  Lloyd,  "  but  I  feel  as  if  we 
had  always  been  old  friends.  Her  mothah  and  mine 
used  to  go  to  school  togethah  heah  in  Lloydsboro 
Valley  at  the  Girls'  College,  and  they've  written  to 
each  othah  once  a  month  for  fifteen  yeahs.  Mrs. 
Ware  is  a  widow  now,  and  they  have  ha'd  times,  for 
they  are  poah,  and  she  has  foah  children  youngah 
than  Joyce.  But  Joyce  has  had  lots  of  things  that 
neithah  Eugenia  nor  I  have  had.  Last  yeah  her 
cousin  Kate  took  her  abroad  with  her,  and  she  stud- 
ied French,  and  she  had  lots  of  beautiful  times  where 
they  spent  the  wintah  in  France.  Mrs.  Ware  sent 
some  of  the  lettahs  to  mothah  that   Joyce  wrotCc 


THE  INVITATIONS  ARE  SENT.  21 

One  was  about  a  Christmas  tree  that  they  gave  to 
thirty  little  peasant  children,  —  and  so  many  queef 
things  happened  behind  a  gate  that  they  called  the 
*  Gate  of  the  Giant  Scissahs,'  because  there  was  a 
pair  of  enormous  scissahs  hanging  ovah  it,  you  know. 
Oh,  it  was  just  like  a  fairy  tale,  all  the  things  that 
Joyce  did  when  she  was  in  Touraine." 

"  How  old  is  she  ?  "  interrupted  Rob. 

"Just  Eugenia's  age,  I  believe,  and  she  must  be 
an  interestin'  sort  of  girl,  for  she  draws  beautifully. 
Mothah  says  that  her  sketches  are  fine,  and  that 
Joyce  will  be  a  real  artist  when  she  is  grown." 

"Number  two  is  all  right,"  said  Rob,  with  an 
approving  nod.  "  Next !  "  The  Little  Colonel  held 
out  the  third  envelope. 

"  One  flew  east  and  one  flew  west,  so  I  s'pose 
this  will  fly  into  the  cuckoo's  nest,"  said  Rob,  as  he 
read  the  address : 

Miss  Elizabeth  Lloyd  Lewis, 
Jaynes's  Post-officey 

Kentucky. 

"Why,  that's  just  what  mothah  calls  the  place," 
cried  the  Little  Colonel,  "  the  cuckoo's  nest !  She 
says  that  the  cuckoo  is  the  most  careless  bird  in  the 
world  about  the  way  it  builds  its  nest.     They  weave 


2a       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY 

a  few  twigs  and  sticks  togethah  just  in  any  kind 
of  way,  and  nevah  mind  a  bit  if  their  poah  little 
young  ones  fall  out  of  the  nest.  They  seem  to  think 
that  any  kind  of  home  is  good  enough,  and  that  is 
the  kind  of  a  home  that  Elizabeth  Lewis  has.  She 
is  a  poah  little  orphan,  and  is  -livin'  on  a  farm  up 
Green  Rivah.  Mother  is  her  godmothah.  That's 
why  she  is  named  Elizabeth  Lloyd.  Mrs.  Lewis  was 
an  old  school  friend  of  mothah's,  too,  and  she  wants 
Joyce  and  Elizabeth  and  me  to  be  as  deah  friends  as 
she  and  Emily  Ware  and  Joyce  Lewis  were,  she  says. 
That's  why  she  invited  them." 

"  And  you  don't  know  anything  about  this  one  ?  " 
questioned  Rob. 

"  Not  a  thing.  I  shouldn't  be  su'prised  if  she's 
mighty  countrified,  for  the  farm  is  several  miles 
from  a  railroad,  and  the  people  she  lives  with  don't 
think  of  anything  but  work,  yeah  in  and  yeah 
out." 

They  had  reached  the  post-office  by  this  time, 
and  Rob  held  out  his  hand  for  the  letters.  "I'll 
put  them  in  for  you,"  he  said.  Then,  dropping 
them  into  the  box,  one  by  one,  he  repeated  the 
rhyme : 

"  One  flew  east  and  one  tiew  west, 
And  one  flew  into  the  cuckoo's  nest" 


THE  INVITATIONS  ARE  SENT.  23 

Lloyd  added,  quickly : 

"  Eugenia,  Joyce,  or  Elizabeth, 
Which  of  the  three  shall  we  like  best  ?  *' 

"Joyce,"  said  Rob,  promptly. 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  agreed  the  Little  Colonel,  stoop, 
ing  to  fasten  the  locust  blossoms  more  securely  be- 
hind the  pony's  ears. 

"Well,  the  invitations  are  off  now.  Come  on, 
Tarbaby,  and  see  if  you  can't  beat  Bobby  Moore's 
old  gray  hawse  so  bad  it  will  be  ashamed  to  evah 
race  again." 

With  that  the  little  black  pony  was  off  like  an 
arrow  toward  Locust,  with  the  big  gray  horse  thun- 
dering hard  at  its  heels. 

The  dust  flew,  dogs  barked,  and  chickens  ran 
squawking  across  the  road  out  of  the  way.  Heads 
were  thrust  out  of  the  windows  as  the  two  vanished 
up  the  dusty  pike,  and  an  old  graybeard  loafing  in 
front  of  the  corner  grocery  gave  an  amused  chuckle. 
"Beats  all  how  them  two  do  get  over  the  ground," 
he  said.  "They  ride  like  Tam  O'Shanter,  and  I'll 
bet  a  quarter  there's  nothing  on  earth  that  either  of 
'em  are  afraid  of." 

A  little  while  later  the  three  white  envelopes  were 
jogging  sociably  along,  side  by  side  in  a  mail-bag, 


24        THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY, 

on  their  way  to  Louisville.  But  their  course  did  not 
lie  together  long.  In  the  city  post-office  they  were 
separated,  and  sent  on  their  different  ways,  like  three 
white  carrier-pigeons,  to  bid  the  guests  make  ready 
for  the  Little  Colonel's  house  party. 


CHAPTER   II. 

*«ONE   FLEW    INTO   THE    CUCKOO's   NEST.** 

The  letter  for  Jaynes's  Post-office  reached  the  end 
of  its  journey  first.  It  wasn't  much  of  a  post-office  ; 
only  an  old  case  of  pigeon-holes  set  up  in  one  corner 
of  a  cross-roads  store.  A  man  riding  over  from  the 
nearest  town  twice  a  week  brought  the  mail-bag  on 
horseback.  So  few  letters  found  their  way  into  this 
particular  bag  that  Squire  Jaynes,  who  kept  the  store 
and  post-office,  felt  a  personal  interest  in  every 
envelope  that  passed  through  his  hands. 

"Miss  Elizabeth  Lloyd  Lewis,"  he  spelled  aloud, 
examining  the  address  through  his  square-bowed 
spectacles  with  a  critical  squint.  "  Now,  who  under 
the  canopy  might  she  be .? " 

There  was  no  one  in  the  store  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion but  an  overgrown  boy  who  had  stopped  to  get 
his  father's  weekly  paper.  He  sat  on  the  counter 
dangling  his  big  bare  feet  against  a  nail-keg,  and 
catching  flies  in  his  sunburned  hands,  while  he 
waited  for  the  mail  to  be  opened. 

25 


26       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

The  squire  peered  inquiringly  at  him  over  the 
square-bowed  spectacles.  "Jake,"  he  asked,  "ever 
hear  tell  of  a  Miss  Elizabeth  Lloyd  Lewis  up  this 
way  ? " 

"Wy,  sure!"  drawled  the  boy.  "That's  Betty. 
The  Appletons'  Betty.  Don't  you  know  ?  She's  that 
little  orphan  they're  a-bringin'  up.  I  worked  there 
a  while  this  spring,  a-plowin'." 

"  Hump ! "  grunted  the  squire,  slipping  the  letter 
into  the  pigeon-hole  marked  "  A,"  "  If  that's  who 
it  is,  I  know  all  about  her.  Precious  little  bringing 
up  she'll  get  at  the  Appletons',  I  can  tell  you  that. 
They  keep  her  because  they're  her  nearest  of  living 
kin,  which  isn't  very  near,  after  all ;  fourth  or  fifth 
cousins  to  her  father,  or  something  like  that.  Any- 
how, they're  all  she's  got,  and  her  father  made  some 
arrangement  with  them  before  he  died.  Left  a  little 
money  to  pay  her  board,  they  say,  but  I've  heard  she 
works  just  the  same  as  if  she  was  living  on  charity." 

"That's  the  truth,"  said  Jake;  "she  does.  Talk 
about  bringin'  up.  She  doesn't  get  any  of  it.  Mrs. 
Appleton  has  her  hands  so  full  of  cookin'  for  farm 
hands  and  all,  that  she  can't  half  tend  to  her  own 
children,  let  alone  anybody  else's.  It's  Betty  that 
'pears  to  be  bringin'  up  the  little  Appletons." 

"  I'm  glad  there's  somebody  takes  enough  interest 


**ONE  FLEW  INTO    THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST"      2^ 

in  the  child  to  write  to  her,"  continued  the  gossipy 
old  squire,  who  often  talked  to  himself  when  he 
could  find  no  other  audience.  *'  I  wonder  who  it 
is,  Lloydsboro  Valley  it's  postmarked.  Wish  she'd 
happen  down  here.     I'd  ask  her  who  it's  from." 

Jake  got  up,  dragged  his  bare  feet  across  the  floor, 
and  leaned  lazily  on  the  counter  as  he  reached  for  his 
paper. 

♦*  Little  Betty  will  be  mighty  proud  to  get  a  real 
shore  'nuff  letter  all  for  herself.  I  never  got  one  in 
my  life.  I'll  take  it  up  to  her,  squire,  if  you  say  so. 
I'm  goin'  by  the  Appletons'  on  my  way  home." 

"Reckon  you  might  as  well,"  answered  the  old 
man,  giving  a  final  close  scrutiny  before  handing  it 
to  the  boy.  "  It  might  lie  here  all  week  in  case  none 
of  them  happened  to  come  to  the  store,  and  it  looks 
as  if  it  might  be  important." 

Jake  slipped  the  letter  into  the  band  of  his  broad- 
brimmed  straw  hat  and  slouched  lazily  out  of  the 
store.  An  old  blaze-faced  sorrel  horse  whinnied  as 
he  stepped  up  to  untie  it.  Jake  mounted  and  rode 
off  slowly,  his  bare  feet  dangling  far  below  the 
stirrups.  It  was  two  miles  to  the  Appleton  farm, 
down  a  hot,  dusty  road,  and  he  took  his  time  in  go- 
ing. Well  for  little  Betty  that  she  did  not  know 
what  wonderful  surprise  was  on  its  way  to  her,  or 


28        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

she  would  have  been  in  a  fever  of  impatience  for  the 
letter  to  arrive. 

It  had  been  a  tiresome  day  for  the  child.  Up 
before  five,  in  her  bare  little  room  in  the  west  gable, 
busy  with  morning  chores  until  breakfast  was  ready, 
she  had  earned  a  rest  long  before  the  Little  Colonel's 
day  had  begun.  Afterward  she  had  helped  with 
the  breakfast  dishes  and  had  taken  her  turn  at 
the  butter-making  in  the  spring-house,  thumping  the 
heavy  dasher  up  and  down  in  the  cedar  churn  until 
her  arms  ached.  But  it  was  cool  and  pleasant  down 
in  the  spring-house  with  the  water  trickling  out  in  a 
ceaseless  drip-drip  on  the  cold  stones.  She  dabbled 
her  fingers  in  the  spring  for  a  long  time  when  the 
churning  was  done,  wishing  she  had  nothing  to  do 
but  sit  there  and  listen  to  the  secrets  it  was  trying 
to  tell.  Surely  it  must  have  learned  a  great  many  on 
its  underground  way  among  the  roots  of  things,  and 
all  else  that  lies  hidden  in  the  earth. 

But  she  could  not  loiter  long.  There  was  the 
dinner-table  to  set  for  the  hungry  farm-hands,  and 
after  the  dinner  was  over  more  dishes  to  wash.  Then 
there  were  some  towels  to  iron.  It  was  two  o'clock 
before  her  work  was  all  done,  and  she  had  time  to  go 
up  to  her  little  room  in  the  west  gable. 

The  sun  poured  in  through  the  shutterless  win- 


''ONE  FLEW  INTO    THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST."      29 

dows  SO  fiercely  that  she  did  not  stay  long,  —  only 
long  enough  to  put  on  a  clean  apron  and  brush  her 
curly  hair,  as  she  stood  in  front  of  the  little  looking- 
glass.  It  was  such  a  tiny  mirror  that  she  could  see 
only  a  part  of  her  face  at  a  time.  When  her  big 
brown  eyes,  wistful  and  questioning  as  a  fawn's,  were 
reflected  in  it,  there  was  no  room  for  the  sensitive 
little  mouth.  Or  if  she  stood  on  tiptoe  so  that  she 
could  see  her  plump  round  chin,  dimpled  cheeks,  and 
white  teeth,  the  eyes  were  left  out,  and  she  could  see 
no  more  of  her  inquisitive  little  nose  than  lay  below 
the  big  freckle  in  the  middle  of  it. 

Hastily  tying  back  her  curls  with  a  bow  of  brown 
ribbon,  she  slipped  on  her  apron,  and  ran  down-stairs, 
buttoning  it  as  she  went.  She  was  free  now  to  do  as 
she  pleased  until  supper-time.  Once  out  of  the  house, 
she  walked  slowly  along  through  the  shady  orchard, 
swinging  her  sunbonnet  by  the  strings.  After  the 
orchard  came  the  long  leafy  lane,  with  its  double 
rows  of  cherry-trees,  and  then  the  gate  at  the  end, 
leading  into  the  public  highway. 

As  she  slipped  her  hand  around  the  post  to  un- 
fasten the  chain  that  held  the  gate,  little  bare  feet 
came  pattering  behind  her,  and  a  shrill  voice  called : 
"  Wait,  Betty,  wait  a  minute  !  "  It  was  Davy  Apple- 
ton.    Betty's  little  lamb,  they  called  him,  and  Betty's 


30        THE  LITTLE   COLONEVS  HOUSE  PARTY, 

shadow,  and  Betty's  sticking-plaster,  because  every, 
where  she  went  there  was  Davy  just  at  her  heels. 

All  the  Appleton  children  were  boys,  —  three 
younger  and  two  older  than  Davy,  whose  last 
birthday  cake  should  have  had  eigh*:  candles  if 
there  had  been  any  celebration  of  the  event.  But 
there  never  had  been  a  birthday  cake  with  candles 
on  it  on  the  Appleton  table.  It  would  have  been 
considered  a  foolish  waste  of  time  and  money,  and 
birthdays  came  and  went  sometimes,  without  the 
children  knowing  that  they  had  passed. 

Davy  was  a  queer  little  fellow.  He  tagged  along 
after  Betty,  switch  ng  at  the  grass  with  a  whip  he 
carried,  never  sayi  »g  a  word  after  that  first  eager 
call  for  her  to  wa^t.  The  two  never  tired  of  each 
other.  He  was  content  to  follow  and  ask  no  ques- 
tions, for  he  had  learned  long  ago  to  look  twice 
before  he  spoke  once.  As  he  caught  up  with  her  at 
the  gate,  he  did  not  even  ask  where  she  was  going, 
knowing  that  he  would  find  out  in  due  time  if  he  only 
followed  far  enough. 

He  did  not  have  to  follow  far  to-day.  Betty  led 
the  way  across  the  road  to  a  plain  little  wooden 
church,  set  back  in  a  grove  of  cedar-trees.  Behind 
the  church  v/as  a  graveyard,  where  they  often  strolled 
on  summer  afternoons,  through  the  tangle  of  grass 


''ONE  FLEW  INTO    THE    CUCKOO'S  NEST."      31 

and  weeds  and  myrtle  vines,  to  read  the  names  on 
the  tombstones  and  smell  the  pinks  and  lilies  that 
struggled  up  year  after  year  above  the  neglected 
mounds.  But  that  was  not  their  errand  to-day.  A 
little  red  bookcase  inside  the  church  was  the  attrac- 
tion. Betty  had  only  lately  discovered  it,  although 
it  had  stood  for  years  on  a  back  bench  in  a  cob- 
webby corner. 

It  held  all  that  was  left  of  a  scattered  Sunday- 
school  library,  that  had  been  in  use  two  generations 
before.  Queer  little  books  they  were,  time-yellowed 
and  musty  smelling,  but  to  story-loving  little  Betty, 
hungry  for  something  new,  they  seemed  a  veritable 
gold-mine.  She  had  found  that  no  key  barred  her 
way  into  this  little  red  treasure-house  of  a  bookcase, 
and  a  board  propped  against  the  wall  under  the  win- 
dow outside  gave  her  an  easy  entrance  into  the 
church.  Here  she  came  day  after  day,  when  her 
work  was  done,  to  pore  over  the  musty  old  volumes 
of  tales  forgotten  long  ago. 

In  Betty's  little  room  under  the  roof  at  home  was 
a  pile  of  handsomely  bound  books,  lying  on  a  chest 
beside  her  mother's  Bible.  They  were  twelve  in  all, 
and  had  come  in  several  different  Christmas  boxes, 
and  each  one  had  Betty's  name  on  the  fly-leaf,  with 
the  date  of  the  Christmas  on  which  it  happened  to 


32        THE  LITTLE   CO  LONE  US  HOUSE  PARTY. 

be  sent.  Underneath  was  always  written  :  "  From 
your  loving  godmother,  Elizabeth  Lloyd  Sherman." 

Excepting  a  few  school-books  and  some  out-of-date 
census  reports,  they  were  the  only  books  in  the 
Appleton  house.  Betty  guarded  them  like  a  little 
dragon.  They  were  the  only  things  she  owned  that 
the  children  "^vere  not  allowed  to  touch.  Even  Davy, 
when  he  was  permitted  to  look  at  the  wonderful  pic- 
tures in  her  "  Arabian  Nights,"  or  "  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress," or  "  Mother  Goose,"  had  to  sit  with  his  hands 
behind  his  back  while  she  carefully  turned  the  leaves. 
Besides  these  three,  there  was  "  Alice  in  Wonderland," 
and  "^sop's  Fables,"  there  was  "  Robinson  Crusoe," 
and  "  Little  Women,"  and  two  volumes  of  fairy  tales  in 
green  and  gold  with  a  gorgeous  peacock  on  the  cover. 
Eugene  Field's  poems  had  come  in  the  last  box,  with 
Riley's  "  Songs  of  Childhood  "  and  Kipling's  jungle 
tales.  Twelve  beautiful  books,  all  of  Mrs.  Sherman's 
giving,  and  they  were  like  twelve  great  windows  to 
Betty,  opening  into  a  new  strange  world,  far  away 
from  the  experiences  of  her  every-day  life. 

She  had  read  them  over  and  over  so  many  times 
that  she  always  knew  what  was  coming  next,  even 
before  she  turned  the  page ;  and  she  had  read  them  to 
the  other  children  so  many  times  that  they,  too,  knew 
them  almost  by  heart. 


''ONE  FLEW  INTO    THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST."      33 

The  little  dog-eared  books  in  the  meeting-house 
proved  poor  reading  sometimes  after  such  entertain- 
ment. So  many  of  them  were  about  unnaturally 
good  children  who  never  did  wrong,  and  unnaturally 
bad  children  who  never  did  right.  At  the  end  there 
was  always  the  word  MORAL,  in  big  capital  letters, 
as  if  the  readers  were  supposed  to  be  too  blind  to  find 
it  for  themselves,  and  it  had  to  be  put  directly  across 
the  path  for  them  to  stumble  over. 

Betty  laughed  at  them  sometimes,  but  she  touched 
the  little  books  with  reverent  fingers,  when  she 
remembered  how  old  they  were,  and  how  long  ago 
their  first  childish  readers  laid  them  aside.  The 
hands  that  had  held  them  first  had  years  before 
grown  tired  and  wrinkled  and  old,  and  had  been  lying 
for  a  generation  under  the  myrtle  and  lilies  of  the 
churchyard  outside. 

Many  an  afternoon  she  had  spent,  perched  in 
the  high  window,  with  her  feet  drawn  up  under  her 
on  the  sill,  reading  aloud  to  Davy,  who  lay  outside 
on  the  grass,  staring  up  at  the  sky.  Davy's  short 
fat  legs  could  not  climb  from  the  board  to  the 
window-sill,  and  since  this  little  Mahomet  could 
not  come  to  the  mountain,  Betty  had  to  carry  the 
mountain  to  him. 

The  reading  was  slow  work  sometimes.     Davy's 


34        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

mind,  like  his  legs,  could  not  climb  as  far  as  Betty's, 
and  she  usually  had  to  stop  at  the  bottom  of  every 
page  to  explain  something.  Often  he  fell  asleep  in 
the  middle  of  the  most  interesting  part,  and  then 
Betty  read  on  to  herself,  with  nothing  to  break  the 
stillness  around  her  but  the  buzzing  of  the  wasps,  as 
they  darted  angrily  in  and  out  of  the  open  window 
above  her  head. 

To-day  Betty  had  read  nearly  an  hour,  and  Davy's 
eyelids  were  beginning  to  flutter  drowsily,  when  they 
heard  the  slow  thud  of  a  horse's  hoofs  in  the  thick 
dust  of  the  road.  Betty  stopped  reading  to  listen, 
and  Davy  sat  up  to  look. 

"  It's  Jake,"  he  announced,  recognising  the  boy 
who  had  helped  his  father  with  the  ploughing. 

"  Hope  he  won't  see  us,"  said  Betty,  in  a  low  tone, 
drawing  in  her  head.  "  We  are  not  hurting  anything, 
but  maybe  some  of  the  church  people  wouldn't  like 
it,  if  they  knew  I  climbed  in  at  the  window.  They 
might  think  it  wasn't  respectful." 

"  He's  looking  this  way,"  said  Davy,  who  had  stood 
up  for  a  better  view,  but  squatted  down  again  at 
Betty's  command. 

It  was  too  late.  Jake  had  recognised  Davy's  shock 
of  yellow  hair,  and  called  out,  good-naturedly,  "  Hellq 
stickin'-plaster,  where's  Betty }     Somewhere  around 


OH,  RUN  AND  GET  IT,  QUICK,  DAVY,    SHE  CRIED. 


''ONE  FLEW  INTO   THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST,"*      35 

here,  I'll  bet  anything,  or  you  wouldn't  be  here.    I've 

got  a  letter  for  her." 

At  that,  Betty  leaned  so  far  out  of  the  window  that 
she  nearly  lost  her  balance  and  toppled  over.  "  Oh, 
run  and  get  it,  quick,  Davy,"  she  cried.  The  little 
bare  feet  twinkled  through  the  grass  to  meet  the  old 
sorrel  horse,  and  two  brown  hands  were  held  up  to 
receive  the  letter ;  but  Jake  preferred  to  deliver  the 
important  document  himself. 

"  Here  you  are,"  he  said,  riding  alongside  the  win- 
dow and  dropping  the  letter  into  her  eager  hands. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Jake,"  she  cried.  "  It  makes  me 
feel  as  if  Christmas  was  coming.  I  never  got  a  letter 
in  my  life  except  in  my  Christmas  boxes.  My  god- 
mother always  writes  to  rae  then,  and  this  must  be 
from  her,  too.     Yes,  it  is,  I  know  her  handwriting." 

If  Jake  expected  her  to  tear  it  open  instantly  and 
share  the  news  with  him  before  she  had  examined 
every  inch  of  the  big  square  envelope,  he  was  dis- 
appointed. The  old  blaze-faced  sorrel  had  carried 
him  out  of  sight  before  she  had  finished  cutting  it 
open  with  a  pin.  Then  she  spread  the  letter  out  on 
her  knees,  drawing  a  long  breath  of  pleasure  as  the 
faintest  odour  of  violets  floated  up  from  the  paper 
with  its  dainty  monogram  at  the  top. 

Davy  waited  in  silence,  watching  a  flush  spread 


36       THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

over  Betty's  face  as  she  read.  Her  breath  came 
short  and  her  heart  beat  fast. 

"Oh,  Davy,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  low,  wondering 
tone.  "  What  do  you  think  ?  It  is  an  invitation  to 
a  house  party  at  Locust ;  Lloyd  Sherman's  house 
party.  Oh,  it's  like  a  lovely,  lovely  fairy  tale  with 
me  for  the  princess.  I've  never  travelled  on  the  cars 
since  I  was  old  enough  to  remember  it,  and  they've 
sent  passes  for  me  to  go.  I've  never  had  any  girls 
to  play  with  in  all  my  life,  and  now  there  will  be  two 
besides  Lloyd ;  and,  oh,  Davy,  best  of  all,  I'll  see  my 
beautiful,  beautiful  godmother!  I  shall  be  there  a 
whole  month,  and  she  knew  my  mamma  and  was  her 
dearest  friend.  I  haven't  seen  her  since  I  was  a 
baby,  when  she  came  to  my  christening,  and  of  course 
I  can't  remember  anything  about  that." 

Davy  listened  to  her  raptures  without  saying  any- 
thing for  awhile.  Then  he  set  aside  his  usual  custom 
and  asked  a  question.  "  Why  are  you  crying  }  "  he 
demanded.  "There's  a  tear  running  down  the  side 
of  your  nose." 

"  Is  there  ?  "  asked  Betty,  brushing  it  away  with 
the  back  of  her  hand.  "  I  didn't  know  it.  Maybe 
it's  because  I  am  so  glad.  It  seems  as  if  I  was  going 
back  to  my  own  family ;  to  somebody  who  really 
belongs  to  you  more  than  just  fourth  cousins,  you 


''ONE  FLEW  INTO   THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST:'      37 

know.  A  godmother  must  be  the  next  best  thing  to 
a  real  mother,  you  see,  Davy,  because  it's  a  mother 
that  God  gives  you  to  take  the  place  of  your  own, 
when  she  is  gone.  Oh,  let's  hurry  home  and  tell 
Cousin  Hetty." 

Slipping  from  the  window-sill  to  the  floor,  she 
carried  the  book  she  had  been  reading  back  to  its 
corner  in  the  little  red  bookcase,  and  shut  it  up  with 
the  musty  volumes  inside.  Then  she  walked  slowly 
down  the  narrow  aisle  of  the  little  meeting-house, 
between  its  double  rows  of  narrow  straight-backed 
pews.  As  she  reached  the  bench-like  altar,  extend- 
ing in  front  of  the  pulpit,  she  slipped  to  her  knees 
a  moment.  Her  sunbonnet  had  fallen  back  from  her 
tousled  curls,  and  the  late  afternoon  sun  streamed 
across  her  shining  little  face. 

"Thank  you,  God,"  came  in  a  happy  whisper 
from  the  depths  of  a  glad  little  heart.  "  It's  the 
nicest  surprise  you  ever  sent  me,  and  I'm  so  much 
obliged." 

Then  Betty  stood  up  and  put  on  her  sunbonnet. 
The  next  moment  she  had  scrambled  over  the  sill, 
pulled  the  window  down  after  her,  and  walked  down 
the  slanting  board  to  the  ground.  Catching  Davy  by 
the  hand,  and  swinging  it  back  and  forth  as  they  ran, 
she  went  skipping  across  the  road  regardless  of  the 


38        THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

dust.  Down  the  lane  they  went,  between  the  rows 
of  cherry-trees  ;  across  the  orchard  and  up  the  path. 
Somehow  the  world  had  never  before  seemed  half  so 
beautiful  to  Betty  as  it  did  now.  The  May  skies 
had  never  been  quite  so  blue,  or  the  afternoon  sun- 
shine so  heavenly  golden.  She  sang  as  she  went, 
swinging  Davy's  warm  little  hand  in  hers.  It  was 
only  one  of  Mother  Goose's  old  melodies,  but  she 
sang  it  as  a  bird  sings,  for  sheer  gladness : 

"  Gay  go  up  and  gay  go  down, 
To  ring  the  bells  of  London  town." 


CHAPTER   III, 

"ONE    FLEW    EAST." 

The  New  York  letter  reached  the  hotel  while 
Eugenia  was  out  in  the  park  with  her  maid,  and  the 
bell-boy  brought  it  to  her  on  a  salver  with  several 
others,  as  she  was  stepping  into  the  elevator  to  go  up 
to  her  room. 

"  Here,  take  my  gloves,  Eliot ! "  she  exclaimed, 
tossing  them  to  the  maid,  and  beginning  to  tear  open 
the  envelopes  as  soon  as  her  hands  were  free.  Eliot, 
a  plain,  middle-aged  woman,  with  a  patient  face  and 
slow  gait,  picked  up  the  gloves,  and  followed  her 
young  mistress  down  the  corridor. 

Eugenia  dashed  into  her  sitting-room,  throwing 
herself  into  a  big  armchair,  regardless  of  the  fact 
that  she  was  crushing  the  roses  in  her  pretty  new 
hat  as  she  leaned  her  head  against  the  high  back. 
Three  of  the  letters  which  she  opened  so  eagerly 
were  from  the  girls  who  had  been  her  best  friends  at 
boarding-school.  She  had  been  away  from  River- 
dale    Seminary  only   a   week,  but   already  she   was 

39 


40        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

homesick  to  go  back.  The  school  was  a  very  select 
one,  and  the  rules  were  rigid,  but  Eugenia  had  known 
no  other  home  for  three  years. 

In  the  great  hotel  where  she  was  now,  she  saw 
her  father  only  in  the  evenings,  and  during  breakfast, 
and  she  always  rebelled  when  she  had  to  go  back  to 
it  in  vacation.  There  was  so  little  she  could  do  that 
she  really  enjoyed.  There  was  a  stupid  round  of 
drives  and  walks,  shopping  and  piano  practice,  and 
after  that  nothing  but  to  mope  and  fret  and  worry 
poor  Eliot.  At  school  there  was  always  the  excite- 
ment of  evading  some  rule  or  breaking  it  without 
being  caught ;  and  if  there  was  no  joke  in  prospect 
to  giggle  over,  there  was  the  memory  of  one  just 
passed  to  make  them  laugh.  And  then  there  were 
always  Mollie  and  Fay  and  Kit  Keller  —  dear  old 
"  Kell "  —  ready  to  laugh  or  cry  or  lark  with  her  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  night,  as  it  suited  her  mood. 

Only  seven  days  of  vacation  had  passed,  but  to 
Eugenia  it  seemed  an  age  since  the  four  had  walked 
back  and  forth  across  the  school  campus,  with  their 
arms  around  each  other,  waiting  for  the  'bus  that 
was  to  drive  them  to  the  station. 

The  others  were  not  so  sorry  to  go,  for  they  would 
be  in  the  midst  of  their  families.  Mollie  was  to  go 
to  the  mountains  with  all  the  members  of  her  house* 


"^ONE  FLEW  EAST."  4 1 

hold.  Fay  to  an  island  in  the  St.  Lawrence,  where 
her  family  had  their  summer  home,  and  Kell  was 
going  on  a  long  yachting  trip,  maybe  to  the  Ber- 
mudas. It  would  be  September  before  they  all  met 
again. 

For  Eugenia  there  was  nothing  in  prospect  but 
lonely  days  at  the  Waldorf,  until  her  father  could 
find  time  to  take  her  down  to  the  seashore  for  a  few 
weeks.  The  tears  were  in  her  eyes  when  she  laid 
down  the  three  letters,  after  twice  reading  the  one 
signed,  "  For  ever  your  devoted  old  chum,  Kell."  It 
had  been  full  of  the  good  times  she  was  having  at 
home. 

Eugenia  looked  around  the  elegantly  furnished 
room  with  a  discontented  sigh.  No  girl  in  the 
school  had  as  much  spending  money  as  herself, 
or  as  wealthy  and  as  indulgent  a  father,  and  yet 
—  just  at  that  moment  —  she  felt  herself  the  poor- 
est child  in  New  York.  There  was  one  thing  she 
lacked  that  even  the  poorest  beggar  had,  she  thought 
bitterly,  —  companionship.  In  a  listless  sort  of  way 
she  picked  up  the  remaining  letter,  postmarked 
Lloydsboro  Valley,  and  began  to  read  it. 

Eliot,  who  was  busy  in  the  adjoining  room,  heard 
an  excited  exclamation,  and  then  the  call,  "  Oh,  Eliot, 
Eliot !  Come  here,  quick ! "     She  was  stooping  over 


42        THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

the  bed  inspecting  some  clean  clothes  that  had  been 
sent  in  from  the  laundry.  Before  she  could  straighten 
herself  up  to  answer  the  call,  her  elbows  were  seized 
ivom  behind,  and  Eugenia  began  waltzing  her  around 
backwards  at  a  rate  that  made  her  head  sp^xi. 

"Dance!  You  giddy  old  thing!"  cii^d  Eugenia. 
*'  Whoop  and  make  a  noise  and  act  as  if  you  are 
glad!  We  are  going  to  get  out  of  our  cage  next 
week.  I'm  invited  to  a  house  party.  We  are  to 
spend  a  whole  month  in  a  hoiise^  not  a  hotel. 
We're  going  to  be  part  of  a  real  hve  family  in  a 
real  sure  enough  home,  —  in  an  old  Southern  man. 
sion." 

"  Goodness  gracious.  Miss  Eugenia,"  panted  Eliot, 
as  she  staggered  into  a  chair  and  settled  her  cap  on 
her  head.  "  You  a'most  scared  me  out  of  me  five 
wits,  you  were  that  sudden  in  3'^our  movements.  I 
thought  for  a  bit  as  you  had  gone  stark  mad.  You 
gave  me  quite  a  turn,  you  did." 

Eugenia  laughed.  "  I  had  to  let  off  steam  in  some 
way,"  she  said ;  "  and  really,  Eliot,  you  can't  imagine 
how  glad  I  am.  They're  cousins  of  papa's,  you 
know,  the  Shermans  are.  I  used  to  know  Lloyd 
when  they  lived  in  New  York,  We  played  together 
every  day,  and  fussed  —  my  eyes,  how  we  fussed  I 
But  that  was  before  she  could  talk  plain,  and  she 


'^  ONE  FLEW  EASTi"  43 

must  be  eleven  now,  for  she's  about  two  years 
younger  than  I  am." 

Perching  herself  on  the  bed  among  piles  of  snowy 
linen,  Eugenia  clasped  her  hands  around  her  knees 
and  began  to  teli  all  she  could  remember  of  the 
Little  Colonel.  Because  there  was  no  one  else  to 
confide  in,  she  confided  in  the  maid.  Patient  old 
Eliot  listened  to  much  family  history  that  did  not 
interest  her  and  which  she  immediately  forgot,  and 
to  many  girlish  rhapsodies  over  "  Cousin  Elizabeth," 
whom  Eugenia  declared  was  the  dearest  thing  that 
ever  drew  the  breath  of  life. 

As  Eugenia  talked  on,  idly  rocking  herself  back 
and  forth  on  the  bed,  Eliot  sorted  the  linen  with  deft 
fingers,  laying  some  of  it  away  in  drawers,  sweet  with 
dainty  sachets,  and  putting  some  aside  that  needed  a 
stitch  or  two.  Presently,  as  she  listened,  she  found 
herself  taking  more  interest  in  the  country  place  that 
Eugenia  described  than  in  anything  she  had  heard 
of  since  she  said  good-bye  to  her  dear  little  cottage 
home  in  England.  She  began  to  hope  that  Mr. 
Forbes  would  consent  to  Eugenia's  accepting  the 
invitation,  and  expressed  that  wish  to  Eugenia. 

"  Why,  of  course  I  am  going !  "  exclaimed  Eugenia, 
in  surprise.  "  Whether  papa  wants  me  to  or  not ! 
I  shall  answer  Cousin  Elizabeth's  letter  this  verv 


/ 


44        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 


minute  and  accept  the  invitation  before  he  comes 
home.  Then  if  he  makes  a  fuss  it  will  be  too 
late,  and  I  can  tease  him  into  a  good  humour." 

Bouncing  off  the  bed,  she  went  back  to  the  sitting- 
room  and  sat  down  at  her  desk.  When  that  letter 
was  written,  carefully,  and  in  her  best  style,  she 
dashed  off  three  notes  in  an  almost  unreadable 
scrawl,  to  MoUie  and  Fay  and  Kell,  telling  them  of 
her  invitation  and  the  delight  it  gave  her.  Then  she 
wandered  back  to  the  bedroom  where  Eliot  sat  mend- 
ing, and  wandered  restlessly  around  the  room. 

"  How  slow  the  time  goes,"  she  exclaimed,  pausing 
in  front  of  the  mantel.  "  Two  hours  until  papa  will 
be  here.  I  want  to  tell  him  about  it,  and  ask  for 
some  more  money.  I  need  an  extra  allowance 
for  this  visit." 

There  was  a  little  Dresden  clock  on  the  mantel ; 
two  cupids  holding  up  a  flower  basket,  from  which 
swung  a  spray  of  roses  that  formed  the  pendulum. 

"Two  long  hours,"  she  fumed,  scowling  at  the 
clock.  "  Hurry  up,  you  old  slow-poke,"  she  cried, 
catching  up  the  fragile  little  timepiece  and  shaking  it 
until  the  pendulum  rattled  against  the  cupids'  plump 
legs.     "  I  can't  bear  to  wait  for  things." 

"But  life  is  mostly  waiting,  miss,"  said  Eliot,  with 
a  solemn  shake  of  her  head.     "  You'll  find  that  out 


^ ONE  FLEW  EASTr  45 

when  you  are  as  old  as  I  am.  We  wait  for  this  and 
we  wait  for  that,  and  first  thing  we  know  the  years 
are  gone,  and  we  are  standing  with  one  foot  in  the 
grave,  waiting  for  Death  to  lift  us  in." 

Eugenia  put  her  hands  over  her  ears  with  a  little 
scream.  "  Stop  talking  like  that,  Eliot,"  she  cried. 
"  I  won't  listen,  and  I  won't  spend  my  life  waiting  in 
that  way.     You  may  if  you  want  to." 

Running  back  to  her  sitting-room,  she  banged  the 
door  behind  her  to  shut  out  the  sound  of  Eliot's 
voice.  The  next  hour  she  spent  by  the  window, 
looking  down  on  the  shifting  scenes  of  the  streets 
below,  —  the  noisy  New  York  streets,  spread  out  like 
a  giant  picture-book  before  her.  Then  it  began  to 
grow  dark,  and  lights  twinkled  here  and  there,  and 
great  letters  of  flame  appeared  as  by  magic  across 
the  fronts  of  buildings,  and  on  the  electric  arches 
spanning  the  streets. 

Eliot  came  and  drew  the  curtains,  and  a  glance  at 
the  little  cupids  told  her  it  was  time  to  dress  for 
dinner. 

"  I'll  wear  my  buttercup  dress  to-night,  Eliot,"  said 
Eugenia,  when  her  black  hair  had  been  carefully 
brushed  and  plaited  in  two  long  braids.  "  It  always 
makes  my  eyes  look  so  big  and  dark,  somehow,  and 
brings  out  the  colour  in  my  lips  and  cheeks." 


46       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

"  You  are  a  young  one  to  be  noticing  such  things 
as  that,"  said  Eliot,  under  her  breath.  She  wanted 
to  say  it  aloud,  but  she  only  pursed  her  lips  together 
as  she  got  out  the  dress  Eugenia  had  asked  for.  It 
was  of  some  soft,  clinging  material,  of  the  same 
sunny  yellow  that  buttercups  wear,  and  Eugenia 
knew  very  well  how  becoming  it  was  to  her  brunette 
style  of  beauty.  After  she  was  dressed,  she  spun 
around  before  the  pier-glass  until  she  heard  her 
father's  step  in  the  hall. 

Although  she  had  been  so  impatient  for  his  com- 
ing, she  said  nothing  about  the  invitation  from  Lo- 
cust until  they  had  gone  down  to  dinner  and  were 
seated  in  the  great  dining-room  together.  She  knew 
that  that  was  not  the  way  Mollie  or  Fay  or  Kell  would 
have  done.  Any  one  of  them  would  have  rushed  at 
her  father  the  moment  he  came  in  sight,  and  would 
have  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  poured  out 
the  whole  story.  But  Eugenia  had  never  felt  on 
such  intimate  terms  with  her  father.  She  admired 
him  extremely,  and  thought  he  was  the  handsomest 
man  she  had  ever  seen,  but  her  love  for  him  was  of 
a  selfish  kind.  So  long  as  he  indulged  her  and  never 
opposed  her  will,  she  was  a  most  dutiful  little  daugh- 
ter, but  as  soon  as  his  wishes  crossed  hers  she  pouted 
and  sulked. 


**  ONE  FLEW  EASrr  47 

To  her  surprise,  he  made  no  objection  to  her  ac- 
cepting the  invitation  to  the  house  party,  except  to 
say,  half -laughingly,  "  Don't  you  think  you  are  a 
little  selfish  to  want  to  run  off  and  leave  me  alone 
vi^hen  I've  scarcely  seen  you  all  winter?"  Then  he 
laughed  outright  as  she  made  a  saucy  little  grimace 
in  answer.  He  would  miss  her  very  much  when 
she  was  gone,  for  she  was  a  bright  little  thing  and 
amused  him,  but  he  had  a  feeling  of  relief  as  well 
to  think  that  a  month  of  her  vacation  would  be  pleas- 
antly occupied.  She  had  been  so  discontented  away 
from  her  little  friends. 

After  dinner  they  strolled  into  an  alcove,  screened 
from  the  hall  by  great  pots  of  palms,  and  sat  down 
to  listen  to  the  music,  and  watch  the  people  passing 
back  and  forth.  It  was  a  gay  scene.  Ladies  in 
elaborate  evening  gowns  passed  out  with  their  escorts 
to  the  opera,  or  waited  for  the  carriages  that  were  to 
take  them  later  to  balls  or  receptions.  Everywhere 
there  was  the  gleam  of  white  shoulders,  the  nodding 
of  jewelled  aigrettes,  the  flashing  of  diamond  tiaras. 
Above  it  all  rose  the  odour  of  flowers,  the  hum  of 
voices,  and  the  music  of  violins. 

Mr.  Forbes,  smiling  through  half-closed  eyelids  at 
this  passing  of  Vanity  Fair,  looked  down  at  Eugenia. 
She  was  leaning  forward  in  a  picturesque  pose  against 


48       THE  LITTLE  COLONEVS  HOUSE  PARTY 

the  arm  of  her  high-backed  chair.  The  light  fell 
softly  on  her  pale  yellow  gown  and  her  dusky  hair. 
The  red  lips  were  parted  in  a  smile  as  she  watched 
the  pretty  pageant,  and  there  was  a  bright  colour  in 
her  cheeks. 

Mr.  Forbes  was  proud  of  his  handsome  little 
daughter.  He  admired  her  ease  of  manner,  and 
boasted  that  she  was  as  self-possessed  under  all  cir- 
cumstances as  any  grown  woman  he  knew.  It 
pleased  him  to  have  his  friends  predict  that  she 
would  be  a  brilliant  social  success.  He  was  doing 
everything  in  his  power  to  make  her  that,  and  yet  — 
sometimes  —  a  vague  fear  crossed  his  mind  that  she 
was  growing  cold  and  selfish.  Sometimes  she  seemed 
far  too  old  and  worldly-wise  for  a  child  of  her  age. 
He  sighed  as  he  looked  at  her.  They  were  sitting 
so  near  each  other  that  his  hand  rested  on  the  arm 
of  her  chair.  Yet  he  felt  that  they  had  grown  widely 
apart  in  their  long  absences. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about,  Eugenia.?"  he 
asked,  suddenly.     She  turned  with  a  little  start. 

"  Oh,  I  had  forgotten  that  you  were  there ! "  she 
exclaimed.  *'I  was  thinking  of  Locust,  and  how 
glad  I  would  be  to  get  away  from  this  tiresome  place 
It's  such  a  bore  to  do  the  same  thing  night  after 
night,  and  always  watch  the  same  kind  of  people." 


'^ONE  FLEW  EASTJ"  49 

A  shadow  crossed  his  face,  but  she  did  not  see  it. 
She  had  turned  back  to  her  day-dreams  in  which  he 
had  no  part.  Happy  little  day-dreams,  of  what  was 
to  come  with  the  coming  June, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"ONE     FLEW     WEST." 

Out  in  the  village  of  Plainsville,  Kansas,  the  rain 
was  running  in  torrents  down  the  gables  of  the  little 
brown  house  where  the  Ware  family  lived.  It  had 
rained  all  day,  a  cold,  steady  pour,  until  the  world 
outside  had  taken  on  the  appearance  of  early  March, 
instead  of  late  May. 

Holland  and  Mary  and  the  baby  (they  called  him 
baby  still,  although  he  was  nearly  four)  were  playing 
menagerie  in  the  corners  of  the  dining-room.  They 
had  a  tent  made  of  the  clothes-horse  and  some 
sheets,  and  the  growling  and  roaring  that  went  on 
inside  was  something  terrific.  It  made  no  difference 
to  the  little  mother,  placidly  sewing  by  the  last  rays 
of  daylight  at  one  of  the  western  windows  ;  but  the 
noise  grated  on  Joyce's  mood. 

Joyce  had  finished  setting  the  supper-table,  and 
while  she  waited  for  the  potatoes  to  boil  she  stood 
with  her  face  pressed  against  the  kitchen  window, 
looking  gloomily  out  into  the  back  yard. 

so 


''ONE  FLEW  WESrr  5  I 

It  was  not  a  cheerful  outlook.  Nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  the  high  board  alley  fence  with  a  broken 
chicken-coop  leaning  against  it,  the  weather-beaten 
old  stable,  and  a  scraggy,  dripping  peach-tree.  The 
yard  was  full  of  puddles,  and  still  the  rain  splashed 
on.     The  sight  made  Joyce  want  to  cry. 

"  If  I  wasn't  at  home,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I 
should  think  that  I  am  homesick,  for  I  feel  the  way 
I  did  that  day  up  in  Monsieur  Gr^ville's  pear-tree  in 
the  old  French  garden.  Then  I  was  tired  of  France 
and  everything  foreign,  and  would  have  given  all  I 
owned  to  be  back  in  America.  Now  I  am  here  with 
mother  and  the  children,  but  still  I  am  as  unhappy 
and  dissatisfied  as  I  was  then.     I  wonder  why  !  " 

It  had  been  less  than  a  year  since  Joyce  had  had 
chat  wonderful  winter  in  Touraine  with  her  cousin 
Kate,  but  it  seemed  such  a  long,  long  time  ago,  in 
looking  back  upon  it.  She  had  settled  down  into  the 
common  humdrum  round  of  duties  so  completely 
that  sometimes  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  never 
been  away  at  all ;  that  she  must  have  dreamed  that 
year  into  her  life,  or  read  about  it  as  happening  to 
some  other  girl. 

As  she  stood  with  her  face  pressed  against  the 
window-pane,  the  noise  in  the  dining-room  suddenly 
ceased,   and  Mary  came  into  the  kitchen,  followed 


52        THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

by  the  rest  of  the  menagerie.  "I'm  tired  of  being 
a  lion,"  she  said,  wiping  her  flushed  little  face  with 
the  sleeve  of  her  apron,  and  shaking  back  her  funny 
little  tails  of  hair  tied  with  red  ribbon,  that  were 
always  bobbing  forward  over  her  shoulders. 

"  I've  roared  till  my  throat  is  sore,  and  I'm  hungry. 
Isn't  supper  most  ready,  sister  } " 

Joyce  glanced  at  the  clock.  *'  It'll  be  ready  in  ten 
minutes,"  she  answered,  and  returned  to  her  survey 
of  the  back  yard. 

"  I  wish  that  we  were  going  to  have  dumplings  for 
supper  to-night,"  said  Holland,  "  and  turkey  and  sau- 
sages. Don't  you,  Mary  1 "  He  snuffed  hungrily  at 
the  saucepan  on  the  stove. 

"  No,"  said  Mary,  pausing  thoughtfully,  as  if  con- 
sidering a  weighty  matter,  "  I'd  rather  have  ice- 
cream and  chocolate  cake.  If  I  had  a  witch  with 
a  wand  that's  what  I'd  wish  for  supper  to-night. 
Wouldn't  you,   sister  } " 

Joyce  turned  away  from  the  window  and  lifted  the 
lid  from  the  kettle  in  which  the  stew  was  bubbling. 
"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  gazing  dreamily  into  the 
depths  of  the  savoury  stew.  "  If  I  had  that  old  witch 
with  a  wand  that  you  are  always  talking  about,  I'd 
not  stop  simply  with  something  to  eat.  I  would  wish 
myself  back  in  Tours,  with  Madame  sweeping  down 


"ONE  FLEW  west:'  53 

to  dinner  in  her  red  velvet  gown,  and  the  candle- 
light shining  on  the  cut  glass  and  silver.  I'd  wish 
for  dinner  to  be  served  elegantly  in  courses  as  Henri 
did  it  there  every  night,  and  I'd  hear  old  Monsieur 
making  his  little  jokes  over  the  walnuts  and  wine. 
And  afterward  there  wouldn't  be  any  dishes  for  me 
to  wash,  as  there  are  here,  and  at  bedtime  Marie 
would  come  with  my  candle  and  untie  my  slippers 
and  brush  my  hair.  Oh,  it's  so  nice  to  be  waited  on  ! 
You  don't  know  how  I  miss  it  sometimes.  It  is 
horrid  to  be  poor." 

Mary  and  Holland  listened  in  flattering  silence. 
They  had  great  respect  for  their  thirteen-year  old 
sister,  who  had  been  across  seas  and  visited  old 
chateaux  where  kings  and  queens  once  lived.  She 
was  the  only  child  in  Plainsville  who  could  boast  the 
distinction  of  having  been  abroad,  and  there  was 
a  glamour  about  it  that  enchanted  them.  They  were 
never  tired  of  hearing  of  her  adventures. 

"It's  horrid  to  be  poor,"  she  said  again,  clapping 
the  lid  on  the  kettle.  "  I  hate  to  live  in  a  little 
crowded-up  house,  and  spoil  my  hands  with  dust  and 
dish-water,  and  do  the  same  things  year  in  and  year 
out." 

Joyce  stopped  suddenly,  wishing  that  she  could 
unsay  that   last   speech,  for  the  little  mother  had 


54        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

come  into  the  kitchen  in  time  to  hear  it.  There 
was  a  pained  expression  on  her  face. 

"  I  am  afraid  my  bird  of  passage  will  never  be  satis- 
fied with  the  little  home  nest  again,"  she  said,  sadly. 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  didn't  mean  it  as  bad  as  it  sounds ; 
truly,  I  didn't,"  cried  Joyce.  "You  know  that  usu- 
ally I  am  as  contented  as  a  cricket ;  but  I  don't  know 
what  is  the  matter  with  me  to-day.  It  must  be  the 
weather." 

Just  then  there  was  a  stamping  on  the  porch  out- 
side, and  the  violent  flapping  of  an  umbrella  to  rid  it 
of  the  raindrops  clinging  to  it. 

"  Jack ! "  shouted  Mary,  rushing  to  the  door,  with 
Holland  and  the  baby  tagging  at  her  heels.  "A 
letter  for  Joyce !  "  they  called  in  chorus  the  next 
instant,  all  straggling  back  after  the  oldest  brother 
as  he  bore  it  triumphantly  into  the  kitchen. 

"From  Lloydsboro  Valley,"  announced  Joyce, 
and  Mrs.  Ware's  face  lighted  up  with  one  of  her 
rare  smiles. 

"Ah,  I  knew  it  was  coming,"  she  said,  "and  I  am 
sure  it  will  prove  an  antidote  for  your  blues.  I  had 
a  letter  from  the  same  place  last  week,  and  I've 
been  in  the  secret  ever  since." 

"What  secret  ?  "  demanded  Mary,  her  eyes  round 
with  curiosity,  and  Jack  echoed  the  question. 


^^ONE  FLEW  west:'  55 

"  That  Joyce  was  to  be  invited  to  a  house  party  in 
June,  back  in  *  My  old  Kentucky  home.'  The  invi- 
tation is  from  one  of  my  old  school  friends.  There 
were  three  of  us,"  she  went  on,  in  answer  to  the 
look  of  eager  interest  in  Mary's  eyes.  "  Three  girls 
who  grew  up  together :  Joyce  Allen  (your  sister  is 
named  for  her),  Elizabeth  Lloyd,  and  myself.  And 
now  our  little  daughters  are  to  meet  in  the  same 
dear  old  valley  where  we  played  together  and  grew 
up  together  and  learned  to  love  each  other  like 
sisters.  I  hope  they  will  become  as  dear  friends  as 
we  were." 

Joyce  looked  up  from  her  letter,  her  face  aglow 
with  joyful  surprise.  "  Oh,  mother ! "  she  cried, 
"  do  you  really  mean  it }  Is  it  possible  that  I  am 
to  go  .''      How  can  you  afford  it .-'  " 

Mrs.  Ware  motioned  toward  the  envelope  lying  at 
Joyce's  feet. 

"Look  again,"  she  said,  "and  you  will  find  that 
Mr.  Sherman  has  sent  a  pass.  As  for  the  clothes, 
well,  your  'witch  with  a  wand'  has  come  to  the 
rescue  again." 

"  Cousin  Kate  } "  gasped  Joyce. 

Mrs.  Ware  nodded.  "What  would  you  think  if 
I  were  to  tell  you  that  there  has  been  a  box  hidden 
away  in  my  closet  for  nearly  a  week,  waiting  for  this 


$6       THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

letter,  which  I  knew  was  on  its  way,  and  inside  are 
the  very  things  you  need  to  complete  your  summer 
outfit  ?  There  is  a  new  hat,  for  one  thing,  and  mate- 
rial for  several  very  pretty  dresses." 

Mary  danced  up  and  down,  her  hair-ribbons  bob 
bing  over  her  shoulders,  and  her  face  ashine,  as  she 
cried,  "  Oh,  sister,  isn't  it  lovely  ?  I'm  so  glad,  I'm 
so  glad,  I'm  so  glad  !  " 

But  Joyce  stood  with  her  face  suddenly  grown 
serious  and  her  lips  trembling.  Her  little  sister's 
unselfish  delight  made  her  conscience  hurt.  Putting 
her  arms  around  her  mother's  neck,  she  hid  her  face 
against  her  shoulder.  "  Oh,  mother,"  she  sobbed, 
"  I  don't  deserve  it  all !  Here  I've  been  so  fretful 
and  discontented  all  day,  thinking  there'd  never  be 
any  good  times  any  more,  and  that  there  was  nothing 
but  work  ahead  of  me,  and  all  the  time  this  beautiful 
surprise  was  on  its  way.  I  don't  deserve  for  it  to 
be  mine.  It  ought  to  be  Mary's.  She  never  frets 
over  things." 

Mrs.  Ware  looked  down  into  Mary's  face,  still 
a-smile  with  the  thought  of  her  sister's  pleasure,  and 
said  :  "  Mary  is  to  have  a  little  slice  of  this,  too.  I 
wonder  what  she  will  say  when  she  sees  a  certain 
pink  parasol  that  I  saw  in  that  box,  sind  a  white 
sash  with  pink  rosebuds  on  it,  and  slippers  that  I'm 


''ONE  FLEW  WBSTr  $J 

sure  wouldn't  fit  anything  else  in  the  house  but  her 
own  wigglesome  little  feet." 

Mary's  hands  came  together  ecstatically,  with  a 
long-drawn  "  Oh  !  "  Then  she  clasped  her  mothei 
around  the  knees,  demanding,  breathlessly : 

"  Anything  for  Holland  in  that  box  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Anything  for  Jack  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Anything  for  the  baby  ?  '* 

Mrs.  Ware  nodded. 

"And  you?" 

Another  nod. 

"  Then  there  isn't  a  single  word  in  the  dictionary 
good  enough  to  fit !  "  screamed  Mary,  excitedly,  spin^ 
ning  around  and  around  in  the  kitchen  floor  until  the 
red  ribbons  stood  out  at  right  angles  from  her  head. 
"There  isn't  a  single  word,  Holland;  we'll  just  have 
to  squeal!*^ 

At  that  she  gave  a  long,  ear-piercing  shriek  that 
seemed  to  go  through  the  roof  like  a  fine-pointed 
needle.  Holland  and  the  baby  joined  in,  each  trying 
to  make  a  louder  noise  than  the  other.  Their  eyes 
were  tightly  shut,  their  mouths  wide  open,  and  their 
faces  red  to  bursting. 

« Therei  there,  children !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ware, 


58        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

laughingly,  as  they  stopped  to  take  breath.  "The 
neighbours  will  think  that  the  house  is  on  fire. 
We'll  have  a  policeman  after  us  if  you  make  such  a 
noise." 

"  The  kettle  is  boiling  over !  "  cried  Holland,  and 
Joyce  flew  to  the  rescue.  Jack  went  to  change  his 
wet  clothes,  and  the  three  smaller  children  trotted 
back  and  forth,  pushing  chairs  to  the  table,  and 
helping  to  carry  in  the  supper. 

Many  a  bedraggled  passer-by  that  evening  looked 
out  from  under  his  dripping  umbrella  as  he  neared 
the  little  brown  house,  cheered  by  a  babel  of  happy 
voices.  The  lamplight  streaming  across  the  wet 
pavement  drew  his  gaze  to  a  window  whose  blinds 
had  not  been  closed,  and  the  picture  lingered  pleas- 
antly in  his  memory  for  many  a  day.  It  was  the 
Ware  family  at  supper.  And  afterward,  when  the 
dishes  had  been  cleared  away,  there  was  another 
picture  to  shine  out  into  the  wet  night :  the  children 
unpacking  the  box  that  Jack  had  dragged  out  of  its 
hiding-place. 

Mary  paraded  jubilantly  around  the  room  in  her 
new  slippers,  the  rosebud  sash  tied  around  her  ging- 
ham apron,  the  pink  parasol  held  high  above  her 
head,  and  her  face  such  a  picture  of  delight  that  one 
could  not  look  at  her  without  smiling,  too. 


\  »ONE  FLEW  west:*  59 

Even  the  baby  sat  up  an  hour  after  his  bedtime,  to 
take  part  in  the  unusual  excitement.  The  prospect 
of  Joyce's  seeing  the  old  valley  seemed  to  have  un- 
locked a  door  into  the  little  mother's  memory.  Story 
after  story  she  brought  out  to  entertain  them,  ol  the 
things  that  had  happened  when  she  was  a  care-free 
little  schoolgirl,  before  sorrow  and  worry  and  work 
had  come  to  make  her  tired  and  sad. 

While  she  entertained  them  Joyce  brought  a  bureau 
drawer  from  her  bedroom,  and,  propping  it  on  two 
chairs,  began  looking  over  its  contents.  She  sorted 
the  ribbons  and  examined  the  gloves,  counted  the 
handkerchiefs  and  inspected  the  stockings,  dividing 
everything  into  three  piles.  One  pile  was  pronounced 
suitable  to  take  on  the  visit,  one  good  enough  to  wear 
at  home  after  another  renovating,  and  one  altogether 
past  wearing. 

« It's  a  sort  of  day  of  judgment,"  said  Jack,  who 
was  watching  the  performance  with  interest.  **  You're 
separating  the  sheep  from  the  goats;  only  there's 
three  divisions  here,  white  sheep^  black  sheep,  and 
goats."  , 

"  I  love  for  such  days  to  come,"  said  Mary,  falling 
upon  the  third  pile  and  bearing  it  away  as  her  lawful 
spoils,  "for  I  always  get  all  the  goats.  Now  my 
dolls   can   set   up   a  milliner's  shop  and  dry-goods 


6o       THE  LITTLE   COLONEDS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Store  with  all  this  stuff  that  Joyce  has  thrown 
away." 

"  You  may  take  my  new  umbrella  with  you,  if  you 
want  it,  Joyce,"  said  Jack.  "  I  haven't  used  it  half  a 
dozen  times  since  I  got  it  Christmas,  and  you  will 
want  to  put  on  style  in  Kentucky.  Your  old  one  is 
good  enough  for  me  to  use  out  here  in  Plainsville." 

"  Do  you  want  my  blue  spotted  necktie,  sister  ? " 
asked  Holland,  leaning  against  her  and  looking  up  into 
her  face  with  an  anxious  little  pucker  on  his  forehead. 
"It's  the  best  one  I've  got,  but  you  may  take  it  if 
you  want  to." 

«  And  maybe  —  "  began  Mary,  hesitatingly.  She 
stopped  an  instant,  a  little  struggle  evidently  going 
on  in  her  mind.  Then  she  began  again,  bravely : 
« Yes,  I'll  lend  it  to  you  if  you  want  it.  You  may 
take  my  new  rosebud  sash.     There  ! " 

A  queer  little  lump  came  into  Joyce's  throat  as  she 
thanked  the  children  for  their  generous  offers.  She 
accepted  the  umbrella,  but  refused  the  spotted  tie  and 
rosebud  sash,  to  the  evident  relief  of  their  owners,  who 
wanted  to  be  generous,  but  were  glad  to  be  able  to 
keep  the  part  of  their  wardrobes  they  most  admired. 

«It  more  than  doubles  the  pleasure,  doesn't  it, 
mamma,"  said  Joyce,  "to  have  everybody  take  so 
much  interest  in  your  having  a  good  time  ?    I  wonder 


**ONE  FLEW  WEST.**  6 1 

jf  the  other  girls  are  having  as  much  fun  out  of  plan- 
ning  for  their  visit  as  I  am." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  answered  Mrs.  Ware.  **  Elizabeth  is 
an  orphan,  you  know,  and  Eugenia  Forbes,  with  all  her 
wealth,  is  practically  homeless,  for  there  is  little  home- 
life  in  either  a  boarding-school  or  a  big  hotel." 

Joyce  looked  around  on  the  cheerful  little  group 
gathered  near  the  lamp,  and  a  sudden  mist  blurred 
her  sight  at  thought  of  leaving  them.  She  would  not 
have  exchanged  the  little  brown  house  and  what  it 
held,  just  then,  for  a  king's  palace.  Outside  in  the 
pitch-darkness  of  the  night  the  rain  beat  against  the 
window-panes  like  some  poor  beggar  imploring  to 
come  in ;  and  inside  it  was  so  cosy  and  bright  with 
the  warmth  and  cheer  of  home-loves  and  home-lights 
that  Joyce  was  not  sure,  after  all,  that  she  could  leave 
such  a  shelter  even  to  be  a  guest  at  the  Little 
Colonel's  house  party. 


CHAPTER  V. 

I  BETTY    REACHES    THE    "HOUSE    BEAUTIFUL." 

It  was  very  early  in  the  morning,  while  the  dew 
was  still  on  the  meadows,  that  Betty  fared  forth  on 
her  pilgrimage.  The  old  farm  wagon  that  was  to 
take  her  to  the  railroad  station,  two  miles  away,  was 
drawn  up  to  the  door  before  five  o'clock.  Davy 
proudly  held  the  reins  while  his  father  carried  Betty's 
trunk  down-stairs. 

Poor,  shabby,  little,  old  leather  trunk !  It  was  not 
half  full,  for  there  had  been  small  preparation  for  this 
visit.  Betty  had  carefully  folded  the  few  gingham 
dresses  she  possessed,  and  the  new  blue  and  white 
lawn  bought  for  her  to  wear  to  church.  There  were 
several  stitches  to  be  taken  in  her  plain  cotton  under- 
wear,  and  a  button  to  be  sewed  on  her  only  white 
ruffled  apron. 

That  was  all  that  she  could  do  to  make  herself 
ready,  except  to  put  her  hair-ribbons  and  handkerchiefs 
smoothly  into  a  little  diamond-shaped  box  that  had 
once  held  toilet  soap.     Betty  felt  rich  in  ribbons  "  to 

62 


BETTY  REACHES   THE  ''HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL."  63 

tie  up  her  bonnie  brown  hair,"  for  there  were  three 
bows  the  colour  of  her  curls,  and  two  of  red,  and  one 
of  delicate  robin's-egg  blue.  The  last  was  to  wear 
with  the  new  lawn,  and,  in  order  to  keep  it  fresh  and 
fine,  it  lay  wrapped  in  tissue-paper  all  week,  between 
the  times  of  its  Sunday  wearings. 

And  the  handkerchiefs — well,  six  of  them  were 
plain  and  white,  and  two  had  pictures  stamped  in  the 
corners.  One  told  the  story  of  Red  Ridinghood  and 
the  other  had  scenes  from  Cinderella  outlined  in  blue. 
They  had  been  Davy's  present  to  her  the  Christmas 
before,  and  he  had  bought  them  at  Squire  Jaynes's 
store  with  his  own  precious  pennies. 

That  was  all  that  Betty  had  intended  to  put  into 
her  trunk,  but  when  they  were  in,  there  was  still  so 
much  room  that  she  decided  to  take  her  books  and 
several  of  her  chief  treasures.  "  They  will  be  safer," 
she  said  to  herself,  and  she  filled  a  box  with  cotton 
in  which  to  pack  some  of  her  breakable  keepsakes. 
She  had  hesitated  some  time  about  taking  her  scrap- 
book,  an  old  ledger  on  whose  blank  pages  she  had 
written  many  verses.  She  hardly  dared  call  them 
poetry,  and  yet  they  were  dear  to  her,  because  they 
were  the  outpourings  of  her  lonely  little  heart. 

All  the  children  knew  that  she  "made  up  rhymes," 
but  only  Davy  had  any  knowledge  of  the  old  ledger. 


64        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

He  could  not  understand  all  the  verses  she  read  to 
him  about  the  wild  flowers,  and  life  and  death  and 
time,  but  they  jingled  pleasantly  in  his  ears,  and  he 
made  an  attentive  listener. 

"  I'll  take  it,"  she  decided  at  last,  slipping  some 
loose  pages  in  between  the  covers.  "  I  may  want  to 
write  something  at  Locust." 

She  paused  long  at  the  foot  of  her  bed,  trying  to 
make  up  her  m.ind  about  her  godmother's  picture, 
that  hung  there  in  a  little  frame  of  pine  cones. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  to  take  it  or  not,"  she  said 
to  Davy,  looking  up  lovingly  at  the  Madonna  of  her 
dreams,  whose  sweet  face  had  been  her  last  greeting 
at  night,  and  first  welcome  on  waking,  for  several 
years.  "  I  hate  to  leave  it  behind,  but  I'll  have  my 
real  godmother  to  look  at  while  I'm  gone,  and  it'll 
seem  so  nice  to  have  this  picture  here  to  smile  at  me 
when  I  get  back,  as  if  she  was  glad  I'd  come  home. 
I  believe  I'll  leave  it." 

It  was  a  solemn  moment  when  Betty  climbed  into 
the  wagon  after  her  trunk  had  been  lifted  in  at  the 
back,  and  perched  herself  on  the  high  spring  seat, 
beside  Davy  and  his  father.  The  other  children 
were  drawn  up  in  a  line  along  the  porch,  to  watch 
her  go.  She  wore  one  of  her  every-day  dresses  of 
dark  blue  gingham,  and  her  white  sunbonnet,  but  the 


BETTY  REACHES   THE  ''HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL."  6$ 

familiar  little  figure  had  taken  on  a  new  interest  to 
them.  They  regarded  her  as  some  sort  of  a  venture- 
some Columbus,  about  to  launch  on  a  wild  voyage  of 
discovery.  None  of  them  had  ever  been  beyond 
Jaynes's  Post-office  in  their  journeyings,  and  the 
youngest  had  not  seen  even  that  much  of  the  out- 
side world. 

Betty  herself  could  not  remember  having  been  on 
a  longer  trip  than  to  Livermore,  a  village  ten  miles 
away.  There  was  an  excited  flutter  in  her  throat  as 
the  wagon  started  forward  with  a  jolt,  and  she  real- 
ised that  now  she  was  looking  her  last  on  safe  famil- 
iar scenes,  and  breaking  loose  from  all  safe  familiar 
landmarks. 

"  Good-bye ! "  she  cried  again,  looking  back  at  the 
little  group  on  the  porch  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Good-bye !  Good-bye !  "  they  called,  in  a  noisy 
chorus,  repeating  the  call  like  a  brood  of  clacking 
guineas,  until  the  wagon  passed  out  of  sight  down 
the  lane.  The  road  turned  at  the  church.  Betty 
leaned  forward  for  one  more  look  at  the  window,  on 
whose  sill  she  had  passed  so  many  happy  afternoons 
reading  to  Davy.  The  board  was  still  leaning  against 
the  house,  where  she  had  propped  it. 

"  Good-bye,  dear  old  church,"  she  said  softly  to 
herself- 


66        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY, 

They  drove  around  the  corner  of  the  little  neg- 
lected graveyard,  where  the  headstones  gleamed 
white  in  the  morning  sunshine,  above  the  dark, 
glossy  green  of  the  myrtle  vines.  How  peaceful 
and  quiet  it  seemed.  The  dew  still  shone  in  tiny 
beads  on  the  cobwebs,  spun  across  the  grass,  a  spicy 
smell  of  cedar  boughs  floated  across  the  road  to 
them,  and  a  dove  called  somewhere  in  the  distant 
woodlands.  As  they  passed,  a  wild  rose  hung  over 
the  gray  pickets  of  the  straggling  old  fence,  and 
waved  a  spray  of  pale  pink  blossoms  to  them. 

**  Good-bye,"  she  whispered,  turning  for  one  more 
look  at  ihe  familiar  headstones.  They  were  like  old 
friends ;  she  had  wandered  among  them  so  often. 
One  held  her  gaze  an  instant,  v/ith  its  well-known 
marble  hand,  pointing  the  place  in  a  marble  book  in 
which  was  carved  one  text.  How  often  she  had 
spelled  the  words,  pointing  out  the  deeply  carven 
letters   to    Davy:    *^ Be  ye  also   ready. ^* 

She  had  a  vague  feeling  that  the  headstones  knew 
she  was  going  away  and  would  miss  her.  "Good- 
bye," she  said  to  them,  too,  nodding  the  white  sun. 
bonnet  gravely.  It  seemed  a  solemn  thing  to  start 
on  such  a  journey.  After  leaving  the  church  there 
was  only  one  more  place  to  bid  good-bye.,  and  that 
was    the    schoolhouse    sitting    through    its    lonel)> 


BETTY  REACHES   THE  » HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL:'   6/ 

vacation  time  in  a  deserted  playground,  gone  to 
weeds. 

There  was  no  time  to  spare  at  the  station.  Mr. 
Appleton  tied  the  horses  and  hurried  to  have  Betty's 
trunk  checked.  The  shriek  of  the  locomotive  coming 
down  the  track  made  Betty  turn  cold.  It  was  like  a 
great  demon  thundering  toward  her.  Davy  edged 
closer  to  her,  moved  by  the  strange  surroundings  to 
ask  a  question. 

"  Say,  Betty,  ain't  you  afraid  ? " 

"Yes,"  she  confessed,  squeezing  the  warm  little 
hand  in  her  own,  which  had  suddenly  seemed  to  turn 
to  ice.  "  My  heart  is  going  bump-bump-bump  like 
a  scared  wild  rabbit's ;  but  I  keep  saying  over  and 
over  to  myself  what  the  python  said.  Don't  you 
remember  in  Kaa's  hunting }  *  A  brave  heart  and  a 
courteous  tongue,  said  he,  they  shall  carry  thee  far 
through  the  jungle,  manling.'  It  can't  be  such  a 
very  big  jungle  that  I'm  going  into,  and  godmother 
will  meet  me  in  a  few  hours.  Don't  forget  me,  Davy, 
while  I'm  gone." 

She  stooped  to  give  the  little  fellow  a  hug  and 
a  kiss  on  each  dimpled  cheek,  for  the  train  had 
stopped,  and  Mr.  Appleton  was  waiting  to  shake 
hands  and  lift  her  up  the  steps.  Betty  stumbled 
into  the  first  vacant  seat  she  saw,  and  sat  up  primly, 


68        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

ciraid  to  glance  behind  her.  In  her  lap,  tightly 
cksped  by  both  hands,  she  held  a  little  old-fashioned 
basket  of  brown  willow.  It  had  two  handles  and  a 
lid  with  double  flaps.  She  carried  it  because  she  had 
no  travelling-bag.  Her  lunch  was  in  that,  her  pass, 
five  nickels,  and  the  Red  Ridinghood  handkerchief. 
■■  "You  can  let  that  be  a  sort  of  warning  to  you," 
said  Mrs.  Appleton,  at  parting,  "  not  to  get  into  con- 
versation with  strangers.  Red  Ridinghood  never 
would  have  got  into  trouble  if  she  hadn't  stopped 
to  tell  the  Wolf  all  she  knew." 

Remembering  this  warnins^,  Betty  sat  up  very 
straight  at  first,  and  held  the  basket  handles  in 
such  a  tight  grasp  that  her  fingers  ached.  But  after 
the  conductor  had  looked  at  her  pass  and  smiled 
kindly  into  the  appealina:  little  face  under  the  white 
sunbonnet,  she  felt  more  at  ease  and  began  to  look 
shyly  about  her. 

Somebody's  grandmother  was  in  the  seat  in  front 
of  her,  such  a  fat,  comfortable-looking  old  lady,  that 
Betty  felt  sure  she  could  not  be  a  Wolf  in  disguise, 
and  watched  her  with  neighbourly  interest.  She  fell 
to  wondering  about  her,  where  she  lived  and  where 
she  was  going,  and  what  she  had  in  her  many  bags, 
boxes,  shawl-straps,  and  satchels. 

Things  were  not  half  so  strange  as  she  had  ex 


MiSTTY  REACHES  THE  "HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL."  69 

pected  them  to  be.  The  corn-fields  and  tobacco-fields 
and  apple-orchards  whizzing  past  the  windows  were 
exactly  like  the  ones  she  had  left  at  home.  More 
than  onee  a  meadow  full  of  daisies,  gleaming  on  her 
sight  like  drifts  of  summer  snow,  made  her  think  of 
the  lower  pasture  at  home,  where  she  had  waded 
through  them  the  day  before,  waist-deep. 

Even  the  people  who  came  on  the  cars  at  the  sta« 
tions  along  the  way  looked  like  the  people  she  saw  at 
church  every  week,  and  Betty  soon  began  to  feel  very 
much  at  home.  After  awhile  the  train  stopped  at  a 
junction  where  she  had  to  wait  several  hours  to  make 
connection  with  the  Louisville  train.  But  even  that 
did  not  turn  out  to  be  a  bad  experience,  as  she  had 
feared,  for  the  old  lady  waited  too,  and  she  was  as 
anxious  to  find  a  friend  as  Betty  was.  So  it  was  not 
long  until  the  two  were  talking  together  as  sociably 
as  two  old  neighbours,  and  they  ate  their  lunch  to- 
gether with  so  many  exchanges  of  confidences  that 
they  were  both  surprised  when  Betty's  train  came 
puffing  along.  They  had  not  imagined  the  time 
could  fly  so  fast. 

At  parting  they  kissed  each  other  as  it  they  had 
always  been  friends,  and  Betty  climbed  into  the  car 
with  a  warm  glow  in  her  heart  at  having  found  such 
unexpected  pleasantness  along  the  way. 


70        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

**It  was  silly  of  me  to  have  been  so  frightened," 
she  thought.  "The  world  isn't  a  jungle,  after  all, 
and  we  are  just  as  apt  to  meet  the  grandmothers  as 
the  wolves  when  we  go  travelling. " 

She  was  mixing  Kaa's  experience  with  Red  Riding- 
hood's  in  her  thought,  but  it  made  no  difference.  The 
conclusion  she  reached  was  a  comfortable  one.  So 
she  leaned  back  in  her  seat  to  enjoy  the  rest  of  the 
journey  without  any  foolish  fears. 

Little  by  little  the  motion  of  the  train  had  its 
effect.  The  white  sunbonnet  nodded  nearer  and 
nearer  toward  the  cushioned  back  of  the  seat ;  the 
kown  eyes  drooped  drowsily,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
Betty  was  sound  asleep.  That  was  the  last  she  knew 
of  the  trip  that  she  had  settled  herself  to  enjoy,  for 
when  she  awoke  the  brakeman  was  calling  ^^  Louis 
ville  !  "  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  people  were  be- 
ginning to  reach  up  to  the  racks  overhead  for  their 
bundles. 

There  was  a  general  uprising  of  the  passengers, 
The  crowd  pushed  toward  the  door,  carrying  the 
startled  child  with  them  as  they  surged  down  the 
aisle,  and  all  at  once  —  as  she  stepped  off  the  train 
—  she  found  herself  in  the  depths  of  her  dreaded 
jungle.  It  was  so  confusing  she  did  not  know  which 
way  to  turn.     The  roar  and  clang  of  a  great  city 


BETTY  REACHES   THE  ''HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL."   yt 

smote  on  her  ears  as  she  stood  in'  the  big  Union 
depot,  helpless,  bewildered,  and  as  lost  as  a  stray 
kitten  in  the  midst  of  that  noisy,  pushing  crowd. 
Sharp  elbows  jostled  her  this  way  and  that ;  strange 
faces  streamed  past  her  by  thousands,  it  seemed. 
How  could  anybody  find  anybody  else  in  such  a 
whirlpool  of  people  .-^  Hunting  for  a  needle  in 
a  haystack  seemed  nothing  in  comparison  to  find- 
ing her  godmother  in  such  a  crowd. 

Betty  stood  looking  around  her  helplessly  in  the 
middle  of  the  overpowering  din  of  whistles  and  bells 
and  the  thunder  of  wheels  on  the  cobblestones  out- 
side. That  moment  she  would  have  given  anything 
she  owned  to  be  safely  back  on  the  quiet  farm.  The 
big  brown  eyes  in  the  depths  of  the  sunbonnet  filled 
with  tears,  but  she  resolutely  winked  them  back, 
whispering  the  python's  words  :  "  A  brave  heart  and 
a  courteous  tongue,  manling." 

But  she  could  not  stop  the  frightened  thumping  in 
her  breast,  and  of  what  use  was  a  courteous  tongue, 
when  nobody  would  stop  to  listen  .-*  She  wondered 
what  had  happened  to  make  a  whole  city  full  of 
people  in  such  a  desperate  hurry. 

Two  tears  splashed  down  on  the  brown  willow 
basket-lid,  and  then  —  No  telling  what  would  have 
happened  next,  had  not  the  jungle  opened,  without 


72        THE  LITTLE    COlOJVEVS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

waiting  for  a  brave  heart  and  a  courteous  tongue  on 
Betty's  part.  Coming  toward  her  all  in  dainty  gray 
and  white  was  a  lady  she  would  have  recognised  any- 
where.  That  face,  that  had  been  the  Madonna  of  her 
dreams,  both  waking  and  sleeping,  since  the  first 
night  it  had  kept  its  smiling  vigil  above  her  little 
bed,  could  belong  to  no  one  but  her  beautiful  god- 
mother. 

With  a  glad  little  cry  of  recognition  she  sprang 
forward,  catching  one  slim  gray-gloved  hand  in  hers. 
The  white  sunbonnet  fell  back,  the  brown  eyes 
looked  out  from  a  tangle  of  dusky  curls  with  a 
world  of  loving  admiration  in  their  depths,  and  the 
next  instant  Betty  was  folded  in  Mrs.  Sherman's 
arms. 

"Joyce  Allen,"  she  exclaimed,  "all  over  again! 
Joyce's  own  little  daughter !  I  would  have  known 
you  anywhere,  dear,  I  think,  even  —  "  She  did  not 
finish  the  sentence.  Even  in  such  an  outlandish 
costume,  was  what  she  had  started  to  say.  She  had 
seen  Betty  as  the  child  stepped  off  the  train,  but  had 
not  given  her  a  second  glance,  as  it  never  occurred 
to  her  that  the  little  guest  she  had  come  to  meet 
would  travel  in  a  sunbonnet. 

But  Betty  was  blissfully  unconscious  of  her  ap- 
pearance.    As  they  crossed  the  city  to  a  suburban 


^ BETTY  REACHES   THE  ''HOUSE   BEAUTIFUL:'   73 

depot,  she  was  so  interested  in  the  mysteries  of  the 
trolley-car  on  which  they  rode,  so  absorbed  by  the 
great  show-windows  they  passed,  and  so  amazed  by 
the  city  sights  and  sounds  on  every  hand,  that  she 
was  not  conscious  of  the  fact  that  she  even  had  a 
head.  It  might  have  been  bald  for  all  she  was 
concerned  about  the  covering  of  it. 

The  Little  Colonel  was  waiting  in  the  carriage  at 
the  depot  when  Mrs.  Sherman  and  Betty  stepped 
off  the  train  at  Lloydsboro  Valley.  Rob  Moore  had 
come  down,  too,  curious  for  a  glimpse  at  the  first 
arrival.  He  grinned  at  the  expression  of  surprise 
and  dismay  on  the  Little  Colonel's  face  as  her  glance 
fell  on  Betty.  Was  it  that  her  little  guest  had  no 
hat,  she  wondered,  or  was  it  because  no  one  in  the 
cuckoo's  nest  had  ever  taught  her  any  better  than 
to  go  travelling  in  such  style  1  And  carrying  a  little 
old-fashioned  willow  basket,  too !  How  odd  and 
countrified  she  looked  ! 

But  Lloyd  was  too  ladylike  to  show  her  disappoint- 
ment. She  climbed  out  of  the  carriage  and  greeted 
Betty  as  graciously  as  her  mother  had  done.  Then 
straightway  she  forgot  her  annoyance,  for  the  sweet 
friendliness  of  the  little  face  smiling  up  into  hers 
was  irresistible. 

"  Does  the  Valley  look  as  you  thought  it  would, 


74        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Elizabeth  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Sherman,  as  the  carnage 
rolled  homeward,  past  handsome  suburban  homes  with 
closely  cut  lawns  and  trimly  kept  paths. 

"No,"  said  Betty,  hesitatingly.  "You  see  I 
thought  you  lived  in  the  country,  and  I  suppose  it 
is  a  sort  of  country,  but  not  the  kind  that  I  live  in. 
Here  everything  is  pruned  and  raked  until  it  looks 
as  if  it  had  just  had  its  hair  parted  smoothly  in  the 
middle,  and  its  shoe-strings  tied.  At  home  there  is 
so  much  underbrush,  and  such  a  tangle  of  weeds  and 
high  grass  and  briers,  that  the  yards  look  as  if  they'd 
forgotten  to  comb  their  hair  when  they  got  up,  and 
had  gone  around  all  day  with  it  hanging  down  their 
backs  in  snarls." 

The  Little  Colonel  laughed.  The  newcomer  had 
amusing  fancies,  at  any  rate. 

"And  there's  the  same  difference  in  everything 
else,"  continued  Betty.  "  The  same  difference  that 
there  was  between  Cinderella's  pumpkin  and  her 
gilded  coach.  It  was  a  pumpkin  all  the  time,  only  it 
looked  different  after  it  was  bewitched.  And  do  you 
know,"  she  said,  with  a  charming  little  burst  of  con- 
fidence that  made  Lloyd's  heart  warm  toward  her, 
"  I  began  to  feel  bewitched  myself,  from  the  first 
moment  that  godmother  spoke  to  me?  She  called 
me  Elizabeth,  and  at  home  I  am  just  plain  Betty 


BETTY  REACHES    THE  ''HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL:'   75 

Oh,  I  think  it  is  perfectly  beautiful  to  have  a  god- 
mother." 

She  looked  shyly  up  at  the  face  above  her  with 
such  a  winning  smile  that  Mrs.  Sherman  drew  her 
toward  her  with  a  quick  hug  and  kiss.  Lloyd  gave 
a  little  wriggle  of  satisfaction.  "  I'm  so  glad  you've 
come ! "  she  cried,  so  completely  won  by  Betty's 
artlessness  that  she  forgot  her  first  impression. 

"Heah  we  are  at  Locust,"  she  said,  as  they  drove 
into  the  long  avenue.  "  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
the  trees  when  they  were  all  in  bloom.  It  was  like 
a  picture." 

"It  is  like  a  picture  now,  I  think,"  said  Betty, 
gazing  up  at  the  giant  branches  overheard  that 
seemed  to  be  waving  a  welcome.  There  was  a  lis- 
tening expression  on  her  face,  as  if  she  understood 
their  leafy  whisperings.  Lloyd  and  her  mother 
exchanged  glances,  and  after  that  she  was  disturbed 
by  no  word  until  the  carriage  stopped.  They  under- 
stood her  silent  pleasure  in  the  great  trees  that  they 
themselves  had  learned  to  look  upon  as  old  friends. 

At  the  house  Betty  leaned  forward  for  an  admir- 
ing glance  at  the  tall  white  pillars,  all  wreathed  and 
festooned  in  their  green  lacework  of  vines.  "Oh, 
I  know  this  place,"  she  cried.  "  It  is  in  my  *  Pil- 
grim's   Progress,'   where    Christian    stopped   awhile 


76       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

on  his  way  to  the  City  of  the  Shining  Ones.  It  is 
the  House  Beautiful !  " 

"  What  odd  fancies  you  have  !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd, 
stepping  out  of  the  carriage  as  she  spoke.  "  But  it 
is  dear  of  you  to  give  the  place  such  a  sweet  name. 
Come  on  up  and  see  your  room.  After  you  have 
rested  awhile  I'll  take  you  all  over  the  house." 

As  they  went  down  the  wide,  airy  hall,  Betty  had 
a  glimpse  of  the  drawing-room  through  the  open 
doors.  In  a  confused  way  she  noticed  mirrors  and 
statuary  and  portraits,  handsome  old  furniture  and 
rare  pieces  of  bric-a-brac ;  but  one  thing  caught  her 
attention  so  that  she  stood  a  moment  in  round-eyed 
admiration.  It  was  a  large  harp,  whose  gracefully 
curving  frame  gleamed  through  the  shadowy  room 
like  burnished  gold.  Fair  and  tall  it  stood,  as  if  its 
strings  had  just  been  swept  by  some  of  the  Shining 
Ones  beyond,  who  were  a  part  of  the  Pilgrim's 
dream. 

"  What  did  you  say  ? "  asked  Lloyd,  hearing  her 
cry  of  admiration,  and  looking  back  to  see  Betty 
standing  in  the  open  door  with  clasped  hands.  "  Oh, 
that  is  grandmothah's  harp.  I  am  learning  to  play 
on  it  to  please  grandfathah.  I'll  teach  you  some 
chords  while  you  are  heah,  if  you  want  me  to.    Come 


BETTY  REACHES   THE  ''HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL:'   77 

At  the  landing  where  the  stairs  turned,  Betty 
stopped  again,  for  there  was  a  great  casement  win- 
dow looking  out  into  a  beech-grove,  and  under  it  a 
cosy  cushioned  window-seat,  where  some  one  had 
evidently  been  reading.  There  were  books  and 
magazines  scattered  all  among  the  pillows. 

"  Heah  is  yo'  room  !  "  cried  Lloyd,  throwing  open 
a  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  leading  the  way 
in.  Betty  followed,  her  sunbonnet  in  her  hand,  and 
looked  around  her  like  one  in  a  dream.  She  had 
never  imagined  a  room  could  be  so  beautiful.  If 
Lloyd  could  have  known  what  a  contrast  it  was  to  the 
bare  little  west  gable  at  the  cuckoo's  nest,  she  could 
have  better  understood  the  wonder  in  Betty's  face. 

"My  room  is  pink,  and  Eugenia's  green,  and 
Joyce's  blue,"  explained  Lloyd.  "  Mothah  thought 
you  would  like  this  white  and  gold  one  best,  'cause 
it's  like  a  daisy  field." 

Before  Betty  could  express  her  admiration,  Mrs. 
Sherman  came  in  with  an  old  coloured  woman  whom 
she  called  Mom  Beck,  and  who,  she  told  Betty,  had 
been  her  own  nurse  as  well  as  Lloyd's.  "  And  she 
is  anxious  to  see  you,"  added  Mrs.  Sherman,  "for 
she  remembers  your  mamma  so  well.  Many  a  time 
she  helped  dress  her  when  she  was  a  little  girl  no 
larger  than  you,  and  came  home  with  me  iof  a  visit 


y8       THE  LITTLE  COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

She'll  bring  you  some  milk  or  iced  tea,  and  fix  your 
bath  when  you  are  ready  for  it.  We  are  going 
to  leave  you  now  for  a  little  while  and  see  if  you 
can't  have  a  nice  little  nap.  It  has  been  a  long, 
tiresome  journey,  and  you  need  the  rest  more  than 
you  realise." 

Left  to  herself,  Betty  undressed  and  lay  down  as 
she  had  been  bidden.  Her  eyes  were  tired  and  she 
closed  them  sleepily,  but  they  would  not  stay  shut. 
She  was  obliged  to  open  them  for  another  peep  at 
the  dear  little  white  dressing-table  with  its  crystal 
candlesticks,  that  looked  like  twisted  icicles.  And 
she  must  see  that  darling  little  heart-shaped  pin- 
cushion again,  and  all  the  dainty  toilet  articles  of 
gold  and  ivory.  Then  she  could  not  resist  another 
glance  at  the  white  Angora  rugs  lying  on  the  dark, 
polished  floor,  and  the  white  screen  before  her  wash- 
stand  with  sprays  of  goldenrod  painted  across  it, 
looking  as  natural  as  if  they  had  grown  there. 

Once  she  got  up  and  pattered  across  the  room  in 
her  nightgown  to  sit  a  moment  before  the  little 
writing-desk  in  the  corner,  and  handle  all  its  dainty 
furnishings  of  gold  and  mother-of-pearl.  There  were 
thin  white  curtains  at  the  windows,  held  back  by 
broad  bands  of  yellow  ribbon.  They  stirred  softly 
with  every  passing  breeze,  and  fluttered  and  fluttered, 


BETTY  REACHES   THE  "HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL."   79 

ontil  by  and  by,  watching  them,  Betty's  eyelids 
fluttered,  too,  and  she  closed  them  drowsily. 

While  she  slept  she  dreamed  that  she  was  back 
in  the  cuckoo's  nest  again,  in  her  bare  little  room  in 
the  gable,  and  that  a  great  white  and  yellow  daisy 
stood  over  her,  shaking  her  by  the  shoulder  and  telling 
her  that  it  was  time  to  go  down  and  wash  the  break- 
fast dishes.  Then  the  broad  white  petals  began  to  fall 
off  one  by  one,  and  it  was  Davy's  face  in  the  centre. 
No,  whose  was  it }  She  rubbed  her  eyes  and  looked 
again,  to  find  her  godmotner  standing  in  the  door. 

"It  is  time  to  dress  tor  dinner,  little  girl,"  she 
called,  gaily.     "  Do  you  need  any  help  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  answered  Betty,  sitting  up  and 
catching  a  glimpse  of  Lloyd  going  past  the  door  in 
a  fresh  white  muslin  and  pink  ribbons. 

"  Shall  I  wear  my  best  dress,  godmother  "> "  asked 
Betty,  "  or  would  it  be  better  to  save  it  for  Sunday  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  helping  her 
to  take  it  out  of  the  little  half -filled  trunk.  "Oh, 
you'd  better  wear  it,  I  think.  We  may  have  com- 
pany." What  she  saw  in  that  trunk  set  her  to 
thinking  her  most  godmotherly  thoughts. 

The  wax  tapers  were  all  lighted  in  each  silver  can- 
delabra when  Betty  went  down  the  stairs,  looking 
*i-esh   and   sweet  as  a  wildflower  in  her  dress  and 


8o       THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

ribbons  of  robin's-egg  blue.  When  she  slipped  into 
the  long  drawing-room,  Lloyd  was  playing  on  the 
harp.  Over  her  hung  the  portrait  of  a  beautiful 
young  girl,  also  standing  beside  a  harp.  She  was 
dressed  in  white,  and  she  wore  a  June  rose  in  her 
hair  and  another  at  her  throat.  Betty  walked  over 
and  looked  up  at  the  picture  long  and  earnestly. 

"That's  my  grandmothah,  Amanthis,"  said  Lloyd, 
pausing  in  her  song,  "  and  that's  the  way  she  looked 
the  first  time  grandfathah  evah  saw  her.  And  heah's 
Uncle  Tom  in  his  soldier  clothes,  and  this  is  mothah's 
great-great-aunt  that  was  such  a  belle  in  the  days  of 
Clay  and  Webstah." 

She  led  the  way  around  the  room,  introducing 
Betty  to  all  the  old  family  portraits,  with  interesting 
tales  about  each  one.  Then  she  went  back  to  her 
harp,  and  Betty  sat  down  in  front  of  the  first  picture 
again.  "  You  belong  to  me,  too,  in  a  way,"  thought 
Betty,  looking  up  at  it.  "  If  you  are  my  godmother's 
mother,  then  you  are  my  great -godmother,  Amanthis, 
and  I  love  you  because  you  are  so  beautiful." 

The  harp  thrilled  on,  the  fair  face  of  the  portrait 
seemed  to  smile  back  at  her,  and  in  some  vague, 
sweet  way  Betty  felt  that  she  had  come  back  to  her 
own  and  had  been  welcomed  home  to  the  House 
Beautiful, 


CHAPTER  VL 

THE  ENCHANTED  NECKLACE. 

Several  days  after  Betty's  arrival,  the  Little 
Colonel  went  into  her  mother's  room  with  a  troubled 
face. 

«*  Mothah,"  she  said,  anxiously,  "what  are  we  goin* 
to  do  about  the  lawn  fete  at  Anna  Moore's  this  after- 
noon ?  Elizabeth  hasn't  a  thing  to  weah  but  that 
lawn  dress  that  she  has  put  on  every  evenin'  since 
she  came,  and  it  isn't  fresh  enough.  I  can't  lend  her 
anything  because  I'm  not  quite  as  tall  as  she  is,  and 
my  clothes  would  be  too  short.  What  is  she  goin' 
to  do?" 

"  Ah,  that  is  my  secret,  little  daughter,"  answered 
Mrs.  Sherman,  with  a  smile.  "  What  do  you  suppose 
I  spent  that  hot  morning  in  town  for,  the  day  aftef 
she  came,  and  why,  do  you  think,  have  I  driven  over 
so  many  times  to  see  Miss  Dean  }  I  have  made  at 
least  six  trips  there." 

"  Was  it  to  get  some  clothes  made  for  Elizabeth  > " 
asked  Lloyd.     A  little  expression  of  doubt  showed 

8i 


82        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

in  the  anxious  pucker  of  her  forehead.  "  But,  mothah, 
she  is  awfully  proud  if  she  is  poah.  Aren't  you 
afraid  of  hurtin'  her  feelin's  ? " 

"  There  are  a  great  many  ways  of  giving  gifts,  little 
daughter.  If  I  prcvided  her  with  clothes  in  a  way  t? 
make  her  feel  that  I  thought  hers  were  too  mean 
to  be  worn  in  my  house,  and  that  I  was  ashamed  to 
have  a  guest  of  mine  present  such  an  appearance, 
that  would  naturally  hurt  her  pride ;  but  I  have 
thought  of  a  way  that  I  am  sure  will  please  her.  If 
you  will  call  her  up-stairs  in  a  few  minutes,  I  will 
show  you.     Where  is  she  now } " 

"  Readin'  on  the  stair  landin'.  At  least  she  was 
when  I  came  up.     She  was  in  the  window-seat." 

"  Then  wait  until  I  take  something  into  her  room. 
I'll  tell  you  when  I  am  ready,  and  you  may  call  her 
up.'* 

Lloyd  hung  over  the  banister  in  the  upper  hall 
until  she  heard  a  whispered  "  Ready ; "  then  she 
called  :  "  Come  up  heah,  Elizabeth,  mothah  wants  us 
a  minute  in  yo'  room." 

Mrs.  Sherman  was  sitting  by  an  open  window  with 
some  sewing  in  her  lap,  when  Lloyd  and  Betty 
skipped  into  the  white  and  gold  room.  Betty  had  a 
book  in  her  hand  with  her  finger  between  the  closed 
pages,  to  keq)  the  place. 


BETTY   BEGAN   THE   STORY. 


THE  ENCHANTED  NECKLACE.  83 

"Elizabeth,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  "do  you  remem- 
ber the  story  of  the  enchanted  necklace  that  was  in 
a  book  of  fairy  tales  I  sent  you  once  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  cried  Betty.  "  That  is  one  of  my 
favourite  stories.  I  have  read  it  twenty  times,  I  am 
sure,  and  told  it  to  Davy  until  he  almost  knows  it  by 
heart." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  it  to  Lloyd,  please.  She 
has  never  heard  it,  and  I  want  to  illustrate  it  for  her 
after  awhile." 

The  little  girl  willingly  dropped  down  into  a  big 
chair  full  of  cushions,  and  with  her  finger  still  mark- 
ing the  place  in  the  book,  Betty  began  the  story : 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  near  a  castle  in  a  lonely  wood, 
there  lived  an  orphan  maiden  named  Olga.  She 
would  have  been  all  alone  in  the  world  had  it  not 
been  for  an  old  woman  who  befriended  her.  This 
woman  was  an  old  flax-spinner,  and  lived  in  a  humble 
thatched  cottage  near  the  castle.  She  had  taken  pity 
on  Olga  when  the  little  orphan  was  a  helpless  baby, 
and  so  kind  had  she  always  been  that  Olga  had  grown 
to  maidenhood  without  feehng  the  lack  of  father, 
mother,  brother,  or  sister.  In  all  ways  the  old  flax 
spinner  had  taken  their  places. 

"  Every  morning  Olga  carried  water  from  the  spring, 
gathered  the  wild  fruits  of  the  woods,  and  spread  the 


84       THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY, 

linen  on  the  grass  to  bleach.  This  she  did  to  help 
the  old  woman,  for  she  had  a  good  and  grateful  heart 
as  well  as  a  beautiful  face. 

"One  day  as  Olga  was  wandering  by  the  spring, 
searching  for  watercresses,  the  young  prince  of  the 
castle  rode  by  on  his  prancing  charger.  A  snow- 
white  plume  waved  in  his  hat,  and  a  shining  silver 
bugle  hung  from  his  shoulder,  for  he  had  been  follow- 
ing the  chase. 

"  He  V(ras  thirsty  and  tired,  and  asked  for  a  drink, 
but  there  was  no  cup  from  which  to  dip  the  water 
from  the  spring.  But  Olga  caught  the  drops  as  they 
bubbled  out  from  the  spring,  holding  it  in  the  hollow 
of  her  beautiful  white  hands,  and,  reaching  up  to 
where  he  sat,  offered  him  the  sparkling  water.  So 
gracefully  was  it  done  that  the  prince  was  charmed  by 
her  lovely  face  and  modest  manner,  and,  baring  his 
head,  when  he  had  slaked  his  thirst  he  touched  the 
v/hite  hands  with  his  lips. 

"Before  he  rode  away  he  asked  her  name  and 
where  she  lived.  The  next  day  a  courier  in  scarlet 
and  gold  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  cottage  and  invited 
Olga  to  the  castle.  Princesses  and  royal  ladies  from 
all  over  the  realm  were  to  be  entertained  there,  seven 
days  and  seven  nights.  Every  night  a  grand  ball 
was  to  be  given,  and  Olga  was  summoned  to  each 


THE  ENCHANTED  NECKLACE,  85 

of  the  balls.  It  was  on  account  of  her  pleasing 
manner  and  her  great  beauty  that  she  had  been  bid- 
den. 

"The  old  flax-spinner  curtsied  low  to  the  courier 
and  promised  that  Olga  should  be  at  the  castle 
without  fail. 

"  *  But,  good  dame,'  cried  Olga  when  the  courier  had 
gone,  <  prithee  tell  me  why  thou  didst  make  such  a 
promise,  when  thou  knowest  full  well  this  gown  of 
tow  is  all  I  own  t  Wouldst  have  me  stand  before 
the  prince  in  beggar's  garb  ?  Better  to  bide  at 
home  for  aye  than  be  put  to  shame  before  such 
guests.' 

"  '  Have  done,  my  child,*  the  old  dame  said.  '  Thou 
shalt  wear  a  court  robe  of  the  finest.  Years  have  I 
toiled  to  give  it  thee,  but  that  is  naught.  I  loved 
thee  as  my  own.' 

"  Then  the  old  dame  went  into  an  inner  room  and 
pricked  herself  with  her  spindle  until  a  great  red  drop 
of  her  heart's  blood  fell  into  her  trembling  hand. 
With  witchery  of  words  she  blew  upon  it,  and  rolled 
it  in  her  palm,  and  muttering,  turned  and  turned  and 
turned  it.  And  as  the  spell  was  laid  upon  it,  it 
shrivelled  it  into  a  tiny  round  ball  like  a  seed,  and  she 
strung  it  on  to  a  thread  where  were  many  others  like 
it.     Seventy  times  seven  was  the  number  of  beads  on 


86        THE  LITTLE   CO  LONE  US  HOUSE  PARTy. 

this  strange  rosary.  Then  she  laid  it  away  until  tht 
time  when  it  should  be  needed. 

"  When  the  night  of  the  first  ball  rolled  around, 
Olga  combed  her  long  golden  hair  and  twined  it  with 
a  wreath  of  snowy  water-lilies,  and  then  she  stood 
before  the  old  dame  in  her  dress  of  tow.  To  her 
wonderment  and  grief  she  saw  the  old  fiax-spinner 
had  no  silken  robe  in  waiting,  only  a  string  of  beads 
which  she  clasped  around  Olga's  white  throat.  Each 
bead  in  the  necklace  looked  like  a  little  shrivelled 
seed,  and  Olga's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  of  dis- 
appointment. 

" '  Obey  me  and  all  will  be  well,'  said  the  old  dame. 
*  When  thou  reachest  the  castle  gate  clasp  one  bead 
in  thy  fingers  and  say  : 

"  * "  For  love's  sweet  sake,  in  my  hour  of  need, 
Blossom  and  deck  me,  little  seed." 

"  *  Straightway,  right  royally  shalt  thou  be  clad. 
Thou  hast  been  a  good  daughter  to  me,  and  thus  I 
reward  thee.  But  remember  carefully  the  charm. 
Only  to  the  magic  words,  "  For  love's  sweet  sake,"  will 
the  necklace  give  up  its  treasures.  If  thou  shouldst 
forget,  then  must  thou  be  doomed  alway  to  bear  thy 
gown  of  tow.* 

"  So  Olga  sped  on  her  moon-lighted  way  through 


THE  ENCHANTED  NECKLACE.  ^'J 

the  forest  until  she  came  to  the  castle  gate.  There 
she  paused,  and  grasping  a  bead  of  the  strange  neck- 
lace between  her  fingers,  repeated  the  old  dame's 
charm : 

" '  For  love's  sweet  sake,  in  my  hour  of  need, 
Blossom  and  deck  me,  little  seed.' 

"  Immediately  the  bead  burst  with  a  little  puff,  as 
if  a  seed  pod  had  snapped  asunder.  A  faint  perfume 
surrounded  her,  rare  and  subtle  as  if  it  had  been 
blown  across  from  some  flower  of  Eden.  Olga  looked 
down  and  found  herself  enveloped  in  a  robe  of  such 
delicate  texture  that  it  seemed  soft  as  a  rose  leaf,  and 
as  airy  as  the  pink  clouds  that  sometimes  float  across 
the  sunset.  The  water-lilies  in  her  hair  had  become 
a  coronal  of  opals.  ' 

"  When  she  entered  the  great  ballroom,  the  prince 
of  the  castle  started  up  from  his  throne  in  amaze- 
ment. Never  before  had  he  seen  such  a  vision  of 
loveliness.  *  Surely,'  said  he,  *  some  rose  of  Paradise 
hath  found  a  soul  and  drifted  earthward  to  blossom 
here.'  And  all  that  night  he  had  eyes  for  none  but 
her. 

*'  The  next  night  Olga  started  again  to  the  castle 
in  her  dress  of  tow,  and  at  the  gate  she  grasped  the 
second   bead   in  her   fingers,   repeating  the  charm 


88        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY, 

This  time  the  pale  yellow  of  the  daffodils  seemed 
to  have  woven  itself  into  a  cloth  of  gold  for  her 
adorning.  It  was  like  a  shimmer  of  moonbeams, 
and  her  hair  held  the  diamond  flashings  of  a  hundred 
tiny  stars. 

.  "That  night  the  prince  paid  her  so  many  compli- 
ments and  singled  her  out  so  often  to  bestow  his 
favours,  that  Olga's  head  was  turned.  She  tossed  it 
proudly,  and  quite  scorned  the  thought  of  the  hum- 
ble cottage  which  had  given  her  shelter  so  long.  The 
next  day,  when  she  had  returned  to  her  gown  of  tow, 
and  was  no  longer  a  haughty  court  lady,  but  only 
Olga,  the  flax-spinner's  maiden,  she  repined  at  her 
lot.  Frowning  she  carried  the  water  from  the 
spring.  Frowning  she  gathered  the  cresses  and 
plucked  the  woodland  fruit.  And  then  she  sat  all 
day  by  the  spring,  refusing  to  spread  the  linen  on 
the  grass  to  bleach. 

"  She  was  discontented  with  the  old  life  of  toil, 
and  pouted  crossly  because  duties  called  her  when 
she  wanted  to  do  nothing  but  sit  idly  dreaming  of 
the  gay  court  scenes  in  which  she  had  taken  a  bright, 
brief  part.  The  old  flax-spinner's  fingers  trembled 
as  she  spun,  when  she  saw  the  frowns,  for  she  had 
given  of  her  heart's  blood  to  buy  happiness  for  the 
maiden  she  loved,  and  well  she  knew  there  can  6e  no 


THE  ENCHAJSTTED  NECKLACE.  IfQ 

happiness  where  frowns  abide.  She  felt  that  her  years 
of  sacrifice  had  been  in  vain. 

"  That  night  outside  the  castle  gate  Olga  paused 
She  had  forgotten  the  charm.  The  day's  discon- 
tent had  darkened  her  memory  as  storm  clouds 
darken  the  sky.  But  she  grasped  her  necklace 
imperiously, 

" '  Deck  me  at  once ! '  she  cried,  in  a  haughty  tone. 
'Clothe  me  more  beautifully  than  mortal  maid  was 
ever  clad  before,  so  that  I  may  find  favour  in  the 
prince's  sight  and  become  the  bride  of  the  castle.  I 
would  that  I  were  done  for  ever  with  the  spindle  and 
the  distaff.' 

"  But  the  moon  went  under  a  cloud  and  the  wind 
bfcgan  to  moan  around  the  turrets.  The  black  night 
hawks  in  the  forests  flapped  their  wings  warningly, 
and  the  black  bats  flitted  low  around  her  head. 

"  *  Obey  me  at  once !  *  she  cried,  angrily,  stamping 
her  foot  and  jerking  at  the  necklace.  But  the  string 
broke  and  the  beads  went  rolling  away  in  the  dark- 
ness in  every  direction,  and  were  lost.  All  but  one, 
which  she  held  clasped  in  her  hand. 

*'  Then  Olga  wept  at  the  castle  gate ;  wept  outside 
in  the  night  and  the  darkness,  in  her  beggar's  garb 
of  tow.  But  after  awhile,  through  her  sobbing,  stole 
the  answering  sob  of  the  night  wind.     *  Hush-sh !  * 


90        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

it  seemed  to  say.  *  Sh-sh !  Never  a  heart  can 
come  to  harm,  if  the  lips  but  speak  the  old  dame's 
charm.' 

"The  voice  of  the  night  wind  sounded  so  much 
like  the  voice  of  the  old  flax-spinner  that  Olga  was 
startled  and  looked  around  wonderingly.  Then  sud- 
denly she  seemed  to  see  the  little  thatched  cottage 
and  the  bent  form  of  the  lonely  old  woman  at  the 
wheel.  All  the  years  in  which  the  good  dame  had 
befriended  her  seemed  to  rise  up  in  a  row,  and  out  of 
each  one  called  a  thousand  kindnesses  as  with  one 
voice  :  *  How  canst  thou  forget  us,  Olga  ?  We  were 
done  for  thee,  for  love's  sweet  saka  and  that  alone.' 

"Then  was  Olga  sorry  and  ashamed  that  she  had 
been  so  proud  and  forgetful,  and  she  wept  again. 
The  tears  seemed  to  clear  her  vision,  for  now  she 
saw  plainly  that  through  no  power  of  her  own  could 
she  wrest  strange  favours  from  fortune.  Only  the 
power  of  the  old  charm  could  make  them  hers.  She 
remembered  it  then,  and  holding  fast  to  the  one  bead 
in  her  hand,  she  repeated,  humbly  : 

** '  For  love's  sweet  sake,  in  my  hour  of  need, 
Blossom  and  deck  me,  little  seed.' 

'<Lo,  as  the  words  left  her  lips,  the  moon  shone 
out  from  behind  the  clouds  above  the  dark  forest. 


THE  ENCHANTED  NECKLACE.  9 1 

There  was  a  fragrance  of  lilies  all  about  her,  and  a 
gossamer  gown  floated  around  her,  whiter  than  the 
whiteness  of  the  fairest  lily.  It  was  fine,  like  the 
finest  lace  that  the  frost-elves  weave,  and  softer  than 
the  softest  ermine  of  the  snow.  On  her  long  golden 
hair  gleamed  a  coronet  of  pearls. 

"  So  beautiful,  so  dazzling  was  she  as  she  entered 
the  castle  door,  that  the  prince  came  down  to  meet 
her,  and  kneeling,  kissed  her  hand,  and  claimed  her 
as  his  bride.  Then  came  the  bishop  in  his  mitre, 
and  led  her  to  the  throne,  and  before  them  all  the 
flax-spinner's  maiden  was  married  to  the  prince,  and 
made  the  Princess  Olga. 

"  Then,  until  the  seven  days  and  seven  nights  were 
done,  the  revels  lasted  in  the  castle.  And  in  the 
merriment  the  old  flax-spinner  was  again  forgotten. 
Her  kindness  of  the  past,  her  loneliness  in  the 
present,  had  no  part  in  the  thoughts  of  the  Princess 
Olga. 

"  But  the  beads  that  had  rolled  away  into  the  dark- 
ness buried  themselves  in  the  earth,  and  took  root 
and  sprang  up.  There  at  the  castle  gate  they 
bloomed,  a  strange,  strange  flower,  for  on  every 
stem  hung  a  row  of  little  bleeding  hearts. 

"One  day  the  Princess  Olga,  seeing  them  from 
her  window,   went   down  to   them    in  wonderment. 


92        THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

*What  do  you  here?'  she  cried,  for  in  her  lonelj 
forest  Hfe  she  had  learned  all  speech  of  bird  and 
beast  and  plant. 

"  •  We  bloom  for  love's  sweet  sake,'  they  answered. 
'  We  have  sprung  from  the  old  flax-spinner's  gift,  — ■ 
the  necklace  thou  didst  break  and  scatter.  From  her 
heart's  best  blood  she  gave  it,  and  her  heart  still 
bleeds  to  think  she  is  forgotten.' 

"  Then  they  began  to  tell  the  story  of  the  old  dame's 
sacrifices,  all  the  seventy  times  seven  that  she  had 
made  for  the  sake  of  the  maiden,  and  Olga  grieved  as 
she  listened,  that  she  could  have  been  so  ungrateful. 
Then  she  brought  the  prince  to  listen  to  the  story  of 
the  strange,  strange  flowers,  and  when  he  had  heard, 
together  they  went  to  the  lowly  cottage  and  fetched 
the  old  flax-spinner  to  the  castle,  there  to  live  out  all 
her  days. 

"  And  still  the  flowers  that  we  call  bleeding  hearts 
bloom  on  by  cottage  walls  and  castle  gardens,  re- 
minding us  how  often  'tis  through  hearts  that  bleed 
for  love's  sweet  sake  we  reach  our  happiness." 

Betty  came  to  the  end  of  the  story  and  paused, 
smiling,  while  the  Little  Colonel,  who  had  listened 
with  one  arm  around  her  mother's  neck,  waited  for 
what  was  to  follow. 

Mrs.    Sherman   took    up    a   little    box   that  had 


THE  ENCHANTED  NECKLACE.  93 

been  lying  in  her  lap  under  the  sewing,  and  lifted 
something  out  of  the  jeweller's  cotton  it  con- 
tainedo 

"  Elizabeth,"  she  asked,  motioning  the  child  toward 
her,  "do  you  suppose  the  Princess  Olga's  necklace 
was  anything  like  this?"  What  she  held  up  was 
a  string  of  little  gold  beads. 

"Oh,  they  are  almost  like  mine,"  cried  Lloyd, 
fingering  them  admiringly.  Before  Betty  realised 
what  was  coming,  she  found  them  clasped  on  her 
neck,  and  Mrs.  Sherman  was  saying :  "  It  isn't  made 
out  of  my  heart's  blood  by  any  means,  and  it  will  not 
lead  you  to  any  Prince  Charming,  but  it  is  my  privi- 
lege as  godmother  to  lay  a  spell  on  them.  Let's  see 
how  it  will  work.  Go  over  to  that  little  trunk  of 
yours  in  the  comer,  dear,  and  lay  your  hand  on  it. 
Now  shut  your  eyes  while  you  repeat  Olga's  charm, 
and  see  what  will  happen." 

Delighted  by  this  dramatising  of  the  old  tale,  Betty 
scrambled  to  her  feet,  ran  across  the  room,  and  laid 
her  hand  on  top  of  the  shabby  little  leather  trunk. 
Shutting  her  eyes  so  tight  that  her  nose  wrinkled  up 
like  a  kitten's,  while  her  mouth  smiled  broadly,  she 
repeated  the  rhyme : 

"  For  love's  sweet  sake,  in  my  hour  of  need, 
Blossom  and  deck  me,  little  seed ! " 


94       THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

As  she  opened  her  eyes,  Lloyd,  obeying  a  whisper 
from  her  mother,  threw  back  the  lid  of  the  trunk. 
All  that  Betty  could  utter,  as  she  looked  within,  was 
a  long-drawn  cry  of  surprise  :  "  Oh-oo-oo !  " 

There,  inside,  lay  a  pile  of  light  summer  dresses, 
some  white,  and  the  rest  in  as  many  tints  of  pale 
pinks  and  blues  and  buffs  and  lilacs  as  could  be 
found  in  a  bunch  of  fresh  sweet  peas.  Below 
were  glimpses  of  linen  and  lace  and  embroid- 
ery, and  in  the  top  tray  two  pretty  hats.  One 
trimmed  simply  with  rosettes  of  ribbon,  the  other 
a  broad-brimmed  leghorn  with  a  wreath  of  forget- 
me-nots. 

One  look  into  Betty's  face  was  enough  reward  for 
Mrs.  Sherman.  It  was  ample  return  for  all  the 
trouble  she  had  taken.  What  was  the  money  ex- 
pended and  the  discomforts  of  that  tiresome  morning 
that  she  shopped  in  town,  or  the  many  trips  to  the 
dressmaker's,  compared  to  the  rapture  in  Betty's 
shining  eyes }  Mrs.  Sherman  had  never  seen  such 
happiness,  or  heard  such  a  gladness  in  a  voice  as 
when  Betty  cried  out,  "  Oh,  godmother  !  Are  you  a 
witch }  It  is  too  good  to  be  true.  I  thought  I  was 
coming  to  an  ordinary  house  party,  and  I've  walked 
straight  into  a  real,  live  fairy  tale  !  Oh,  I  can  never 
thank   you   enough !     Never,  never,    never."      She 


THE  ENCHANTED  NECKLACE.  95 

threw  her  arms  around  her  godmother's  neck  and 
kissed  her  again  and  again. 

Presently  leaving  Betty  to  gloat  over  her  treasures 
by  herself,  Lloyd  followed  Mrs.  Sherman  out  of  the 
room.  "  Now  I  see  what  you  meant,  mothah,"  she 
said,  "about  the  different  ways  of  givin'  things.  It 
can't  hurt  anybody's  pride  if  you  make  them  feel 
that  you  give  it  for  love's  sweet  sake.  That  was  a 
beautiful  way  you  did  it,  mothah,  and  I'll  never 
fo'get  it." 


CHAPTER   VII. 
BITS  FROM  Betty's  diary. 

"  The  Locusts,"  June  4,  1900. 

This  morning  when  I  sat  down  at  my  writing-desk 
to  finish  a  letter  to  Davy,  I  found  this  little  blank 
book,  bound  in  white  kid,  with  my  initials  on  the 
back  in  gold  letters.  When  I  first  came,  godmother 
heard  me  wishing  that  I  could  put  a  slice  of  my  good 
times  away  in  a  box  every  day,  and  save  it  to  take 
home  and  enjoy  afterward,  as  people  do  fruit-cake 
sometimes,  after  Christmases  and  vv^eddings.  So  she 
has  given  me  this  pretty  white  book,  and  every  day 
while  I  am  in  this  House  Beautiful  I  shall  write 
something  in  it  with  this  darling  little  pearl-handled 
pen. 

Even  if  I  should  live  to  be  a  grandmother,  I  am 
sure  I  shall  never  be  too  old  to  enjoy  reading  the 
account  of  what  we  did  at  this  house  party.  So  far 
I  am  the  only  guest.  The  others  will  be  here  in  a 
few  days.  They  have  so  much  farther  to  travel  than 
I  had. 

96 


BITS   FROM  BETTY'S  DIARY.  97 

Cousin  Hetty  would  say  that  I  "am  eating  my 
white  bread  now,"  for  it  is  nothing  but  play  from 
morning  until  night. 

At  first  it  seemed  so  strange,  —  no  beds  to  make, 
no  dishes  to  wash,  no  churning  to  do.  I  like  the 
evenings  best  of  all.  Then  we  sit  on  the  porch  in 
the  twilight,  and  godmother  talks  about  mamma. 
I  never  knew  anything  about  her  before,  for  I  was  so 
little  when  she  died ;  but  now  she  seems  so  real  to 
me  and  so  sweet. 

Then  we  go  into  the  long  drawing-room,  and  the 
wax  tapers  are  lighted.  Godmother  says  she  always 
intends  to  use  candle-light  in  that  room,  because  it 
would  spoil  some  of  its  quaint  old-time  charm  to  use 
modern  lights.  And  she  plays  on  the  piano,  and 
Lloyd  on  the  harp.  Lloyd  is  only  learning,  and  god- 
mother doesn't  seem  to  think  much  of  her  playing, 
but  to  me  the  music  they  make  seems  almost 
heavenly.  They  forget  that  the  only  music  that  I 
am  used  to  hearing,  except  what  the  birds  make,  is 
pumped  out  of  the  wheezy  little  organ  at  church. 

I  could  sit  up   all    night   to  listen    to    them.     It 

makes  me  feel  so  strange  that  I  hardly  know  how  to 

describe  it,  —  as  if  I  were  away  off  from  everything, 

•and  high  up,  where  it  is  wide  and  open,  and  where 

the   stars   are.     It   makes  me  want  to   write.     All 


pS        THE  LITTLE    CO  LONE  US  HOUSE  PARTY. 

sorts  of  beautiful  thoughts  come  to  me,  that  I  can 
almost  put  into  words.  But  they  are  like  will-o'-the- 
wisps.  When  I  get  to  the  place  with  my  rhyme, 
where  I  saw  them  shining,  they  are  still  beyond  my 
reach. 

June  5th. 

Rob  Moore  came  over  to-day,  and  he  and  Lloyd 
and  I  went  fishing. 

We  carried  our  lunch  with  us,  and  ate  it  on  a  big 
rock  that  sticks  up  like  a  sort  of  island  in  the  middle 
of  the  creek.  We  had  to  take  off  our  shoes  and  stock- 
ings to  wade  out  to  it,  and  after  we  got  there  the  rock 
was  hardly  big  enough  to  hold  the  basket  and  all  of 
us  comfortably.  We  had  to  hold  fast  with  one  hand 
and  grab  for  our  sandwiches  with  the  other. 

It  was  lots  of  fun,  for  Rob  and  Lloyd  kept  saying 
such  funny  things  that  we  laughed  all  the  time.  I 
don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  we  got  to  laughing 
so  hard  that  Lloyd  choked  on  a  piece  of  chicken. 
We  began  pounding  her  on  the  back  to  help  her  get 
her  breath,  and  all  of  a  sudden  off  we  went  from  the 
rock  into  the  creek  —  kersplash  ! 

It  wasn't  deep  enough  to  hurt  us,  but  we  did  look 
so  funny  when  we  stood  up  as  wet  as  three  frogs,  and 
wiped  the  water  out  of  our  eyes.  We  laughed  so 
hard  we  could  scarcely  fish  the  basket  out  of  the 


BITS  FROM  BETTY'S  DIARY.  99 

creek  and  wade  to  shore.  The  basket  was  the  only 
thing  we  caught  except  a  turtle ;  Rob  got  that,  and 
Lloyd  made  him  let  it  go  again. 

Of  course  our  tumble  into  the  water  ended  the 
fishing  for  to-day,  for  we  all  had  to  hurry  home  for 
dry  clothes.  But  Rob  came  back  again  in  the  after- 
noon, and  he  and  Lloyd  have  been  giving  me  my 
first  lesson  in  lawn-tennis. 

June  6th. 

Joyce  came  to-day  on  the  noon  train.  She  has 
the  blue  room  across  the  hall  from  mine.  It  suits 
her,  for  she  is  a  blonde  like  Lloyd,  but  her  hair 
doesn't  curl  any.  It  is  just  soft  and  wavy,  and  hangs 
in  two  long  braids  below  her  waist.  Her  eyes  are 
gray,  with  long  dark  lashes,  and  while  she  isn't 
exactly  pretty,  she  has  a  face  that  you  like  to  keep 
looking  at.  It  is  so  bright  and  jolly,  as  if  she  was 
always  thinking  funny  things,  and  having  a  good 
time  all  to  herself. 

She  came  all  the  way  alone,  and  didn't  mind  it  a 
bit,  although  she  had  to  change  cars  twice,  and  was 
all  night  on  the  sleeping-car.  She  brought  a  sketch- 
book in  her  satchel  that  is  almost  full  of  pictures  she 
drew  on  the  train.  There  is  one  that  is  so  funny. 
It  is  the  head  of  an  old  man,  gone  to  sleep  with  his 
mouth  open.     She  wrote  under  that  one,  "  As  others 


lOO     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  FART\ 

see  us."  Then  she  drew  two  cunning  babies  playing 
peek-a-boo  in  the  aisle.  She  called  that  "  Innocence 
abroad."  There  are  ever  so  many  more  that  god- 
mother says  are  really  clever,  and  remarkably  well 
done  for  a  girl  of  thirteen.  I  thought  they  were 
perfect. 

It  didn't  take  long  to  get  acquainted  with  Joyce. 
She  has  been  here  only  a  part  of  a  day,  and  already  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  known  her  always. 

June  7th. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  yesterday  when  Eugenia 
came.  Godmother  and  Lloyd  drove  down  to  the  sta- 
tion to  meet  her,  but  Joyce  and  I  walked  up  and 
down  under  the  locusts,  wondering  what  she  would 
be  like. 

We  could  hardly  wait  for  the  carriage  to  come,  we 
were  so  eager  to  know.  I  couldn't  tell  what  it  was 
about  her,  but  somehow,  when  she  stepped  out  of  the 
carriage  and  shook  hands  with  us,  she  made  me  feel 
awkward  and  shy  and  out  of  place.  Maybe  it  was 
because  she  had  such  a  grown-up  manner  and  seemed 
so  young-ladified,  although  she  is  only  Joyce's  age. 
Then  she  spoke  in  such  a  superior  sort  of  way  to  her 
maid,  when  she  ordered  her  to  follow  up-stairs  with 
the  satchels. 

They  went  straight   to  the  green  room  to  dress 


PITS  FROM  BETTY'S  DIARV  101 

for  dinner,  and  Joyce  and  I  locked  arms  again,  and 
strolled  down  to  the  gate.  Joyce  asked  me  what  I 
thought  of  her.  I  told  her  that  I  would  be  thankful 
to  the  end  of  time  that  I  got  here  first.  Seeing  her 
arrive  in  such  a  stylish  travelling  suit,  gloves,  and 
Knox  hat,  and  carrying  such  a  handsome  leather  bag, 
opened  my  eyes  to  the  way  I  must  have  looked  when 
I  came.  It  tickled  Joyce,  the  way  I  described  my- 
self, travelling  in  a  sunbonnet  and  carrying  my 
belongings  in  an  old-fashioned  willow  basket. 

She  gave  my  chin  a  soft  nip  and  kissed  me  on 
each  cheek,  and  said,  "  You  funny  little  Bettykins ! 
As  if  it  made  any  difference  to  your  friends  what 
you  wore." 

I  told  her  I  believed  it  would  make  a  difference  to 
Eugenia,  and  she  thought,  too,  that  maybe  it  might. 
Then  I  told  her  I  believed  that  was  why  godmother 
gave  me  the  enchanted  necklace  before  she  came,  so 
that  I  wouldn't  feel  uncomfortable.  Joyce  had  not 
heard  about  the  necklace,  so  1  showed  her  my  gold 
beads  and  told  her  their  story.  She  thought  it  was 
lovely  of  godmother  to  make  the  fairy  tale  come  true, 
but  she  advised  me  not  to  tell  Eugenia.  Girls  who 
always  travel  in  private  cars  and  have  everything 
they  wish  for,  she  said,  can't  understand  what  it 
means  to  be  poor.     Then  she  told  me  about  a  box 


I02     THE  LITTLE   CO  LONE  VS  HOUSE  PARTY, 

that  her  Cousin  Kate  had  sent  her,  and  how  good  it 
made  everybody  in  the  little  brown  house  feel,  when 
it  came. 

June  8th. 

We  had  the  grandest  surprise  this  morning.  Lloyd 
came  up  to  the  house  soon  after  breakfast,  on  Tar- 
baby,  leading  her  mother's  riding  horse,  a  graceful 
little  bay  mare.  Behind  her  came  one  of  the  coloured 
men  leading  two  ponies,  so  that  we  could  all  have  a 
ride.  The  bay  mare  was  for  Eugenia,  who  is  a  fine 
horsewoman.  She  learned  in  a  New  York  riding- 
school.  The  ponies  were  for  Joyce  and  me.  Mr. 
Sherman  had  them  sent  out  from  Louisville  after  he 
went  away,  for  us  to  use  all  the  time  we  are  here. 

One  of  the  ponies  is  named  Calico,  because  he  is 
marked  so  queerly.  His  hair  grows  in  such  funny 
little  streaks  and  stripes  and  patches  that  he  looks 
as  if  he  had  been  painted  that  way  on  purpose.  He 
was  a  clown  pony  in  a  circus  one  time,  and  is  sup. 
posed  to  know  a  lot  of  tricks.  Joyce  wanted  him 
because  he  is  so  gentle,  and  she  had  never  ridden 
any  before.  She  didn't  mind  his  ridiculous  looks. 
So  Lad  fell  to  my  share,  —  a  pretty  brown  one  that 
is  as  easy  as  a  rocking-horse  after  the  stiff-jointed 
old  farm-horses  that  I  am  used  to  bouncing  around 
on  at  home. 


BITS  FROM  BETTY'S  DIARY.  IO3 

They  were  all  ready  to  start,  so  we  went  galloping 
down  to  Judge  Moore's  after  Rob,  and  the  five  of  us 
raced  all  over  the  valley  till  nearly  lunch-time.  It 
was  grand.  The  dust  flew,  and  people  ran  to  the 
windows  when  we  went  by,  as  if  we  had  been  a 
circus. 

We  did  have  a  sort  of  circus  when  we  passed  by 
Taylor's  grove.  A  Butchers'  Union  had  come  out 
from  town  for  a  big  picnic,  and  they  had  a  brass  band 
with  them.  It  struck  up  a  waltz  just  as  we  reached 
the  grove,  and  Joyce's  pony,  Calico,  began  turning 
around  and  around  as  if  he  had  lost  his  senses. 
Joyce  screamed  and  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
frightened  almost  to  death  until  Rob  called  out  that 
Calico  was  dancing,  and  for  her  to  hang  on  and  see 
what  he  would  do.  What  he  did  was  to  stand  on  his 
hind  legs  and  dump  Joyce  off  into  the  middle  of  the 
road. 

She  sat  there  in  the  dust,  too  astonished  to  move, 
until  Rob  helped  her  up,  and  then  they  both  leaned 
against  the  fence  to  laugh  at  Calico's  antics.  He 
was  so  funny.  He  kept  up  his  performances  until 
the  music  stopped.  Then  he  walked  over  to  Rob 
d,nd  held  up  his  fore  foot  to  shake  hands,  as  if  he 
wanted  to  be  congratulated.  The  music  of  the  band 
seemed  to  have  brought  back  all  his  old  tricks  to  his 


104     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY 

memory.  I  didn't  suppose  that  Joyce  would  mount 
him  again,  but  she  did.  Rob  called  to  the  men  and 
asked  them  please  not  to  play  again  until  we  were 
out  of  hearing,  and  we  rode  off. 

June  9th. 

I  don't  believe  that  I  could  ever  love  Eugenia  very 
dearly,  because  she  makes  me  feel  uncomfortable  so 
often.  She  has  a  way  of  looking  down  on  you  that 
would  rile  anybody.  But  she  is  a  fascinating  sort  of 
girl,  when  she  wants  to  be  friendly  and  entertaining. 
We  have  been  in  her  room  all  morning,  listening  to 
her  talk. 

It  must  be  grand  to  live  in  one  of  the  biggest 
hotels  in  the  world,  and  see  all  the  sights  she  sees. 
I  imagine  it  is  a  sort  of  a  palace.  She  showed  us  the 
picture  of  her  three  best  friends  at  school.  It  is 
in  a  big  silver  locket  set  with  sapphires,  and  hangs 
over  a  corner  of  her  mirror.  We  heard  a  g^reat  deal 
of  them  this  morning.  She  seems  to  think  more  of 
that  Mollie  and  Fay  and  Kell  than  she  does  of  her 
father. 

It  is  funny  that  when  you  are  with  Eugenia  you 
can't  help  feeling  the  same  way  she  does  about  what 
she's  telling;  that  it  is  right  to  break  the  rules  and 
skip  recitations  and  torment  the  teachers  and  play 
jokes  on  the  girls  not  in  their  set.     She  seems  to 


BITS  FROM  BETTY'S  DIARY.  105 

have  a  great  influence  over  Lloyd.  I  don't  believe 
godmother  would  like  it  if  she  knew  how  much. 
Already  Lloyd  has  promised  to  tease  her  father  and 
mother  into  letting  her  go  to  New  York  next  fall,  to 
enter  Eugenia's  school.  She  told  us  that  it  is  very 
select,  and  said,  "  Yciu  know  sometimes  schools  that 
advertise  themselves  as  being  awfully  select  are  no 
better  than  those  horrid  public  scchools,  for  they  take 
anybody  who  applies,  no  matter  how  common  they 
are." 

Joyce  asked  her  why  she  called  public  schools 
horrid,  and  she  answered  in  such  a  disgusted,  patron- 
ising way,  "  Oh,  nobody  who  is  anybody  would  go  to 
a  public  school." 

That  made  Joyce  mad,  and  she  told  her  that  she 
went  to  one  and  that  she  was  proud  of  it;  that 
where  she  lived  public  schools  were  considered  better 
than  the  private  ones.  They  had  better  teachers 
and  more  progressive  methods ;  and  she  said  she 
wouldn't  give  up  the  Plainsville  High  School  for  all 
the  select  seminaries  in  New  York. 

Then  Eugenia  drawled  in  such  a  bored  tone,  "  Oh, 
wouldn't  you!  Well,  maybe  you  wouldn't,  being 
from  the  West,  you  know.  I've  always  heard  it 
spoken  of  out  there  as  wild  and  woolly,  and  I  sup- 
pose it  is  all  a  matter  of  taste." 


I06     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Then  she  gave  a  provoking  little  laugh,  and  began 
to  hum  a  tune,  as  if  public  schools  and  people  who 
went  to  them  were  too  common  for  her  to  think 
about.  Joyce  looked  out  of  the  window  with  a  sort 
of  don't-care  expression,  and  said  something  in 
French.  Of  course  I  couldn't  understand  it,  but  she 
told  me  afterward  that  it  was  a  well-known  proverb 
about  the  opinion  of  a  wise  fool. 

Eugenia  was  so  astonished  !  She  did  not  know  that 
Joyce  can  speak  French.  She  has  a  way  of  using  it 
herself  all  the  time  when  she  talks.  She  is  always 
throwing  in  a  French  word  or  sentence  that  Lloyd 
and  I  can't  understand.  Joyce  laughed  about  it  to 
me  the  first  day  she  came,  and  said  Eugenia  is  just 
as  apt  to  use  the  wrong  word  as  the  right  one.  This 
was  the  first  time  that  Joyce  had  spoken  French,  and 
Eugenia  was  so  surprised  she  couldn't  help  showing 
it,  and  asked  her  why  she  had  never  said  anything 
before  in  that  language.  Joyce  told  her  that  her 
teacher  never  allowed  her  to  mix  the  languages.  She 
said  it  was  in  bad  taste  to  do  so  in  speaking  to 
people  who  only  understood  one ;  that  it  seemed 
affected,  or  as  if  the  person  wanted  to  show  off  how 
much  she  knew. 

Then  that  made  Eugenia  mad,  and  she  asked  her 
in  a  spiteful  way  if  it  was  a  public  school  teacher 


BITS  FROM  BETTY'S  DIARY.  IO7 

that  told  her  that,  and  said  she  didn't  know  that  they 
taught  French  out  West.  Joyce  said  yes,  that  they 
did,  but  that  of  course  a  year  abroad  was  quite  a 
help,  and  that  before  she  left  France  they  told  her 
that  her  accent  was  quite  Parisian. 

That  took  the  wind  out  of  Eugenia's  sails.  She 
did  not  know  that  Joyce  had  been  abroad.  She  is 
crazy  to  go  herself,  but  that  is  the  one  thing  that 
her  father  will  not  humour  her  in.  He  says  that  she 
must  wait  until  she  is  older,  and  he  has  time  to  go 
with  her  himself.  All  her  friends  have  been,  and  it 
seemed  to  mortify  her  that  Joyce  was  ahead  of  her 
there.  She  hasn't  put  on  any  airs  with  Joyce  since, 
although  she  still  does  with  me. 

This  is  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  to  write  in  my 
"  Good  times  "  book,  but  I  have  put  it  in  to  explain 
why  we  have  paired  off  as  we  have.  Joyce  and  I 
go  together  now,  and  Eugenia  and  Lloyd.  Eugenia 
flatters  her  all  the  time,  and  never  says  hateful  things 
to  her  as  she  does  to  us,  and  Lloyd  thinks  that 
Eugenia  is  perfection. 

Some  letters  came  this  afternoon,  —  a  whole  hand- 
ful for  Eugania,  written  on  handsome  linen  paper  and 
sealed  with  pretty  monogram  seals.  I  had  a  letter,  too. 
The  first  one  since  I  have  been  here.  It  was  from 
Davy,  and  printed  in  big  tipsy  letters  that  straggled 


I08      THE  LITTLE    CO  LONE  US  HOUSE  PARTY. 

all  over  the  page.  There  were  only  a  few  lines,  but 
I  knew  how  long  the  little  fellow  must  have  worked 
over  them,  gripping  the  pencil  tight  in  his  hard  little 
fist.  I  was  so  proud  of  it,  Davy's  first  letter,  that  I 
passed  it  around  for  the  girls  to  see.  Lloyd  and 
Joyce  were  interested  and  amused,  and  laughed  as  I 
had  done  over  the  dear  crooked  letters ;  but  Eugenia 
was  in  one  of  her  high  and  mighty  moods,  and  she 
only  lifted  those  black  eyebrows  in  that  indifferent 
way  of  hers,  and  tossed  it  back. 

"What  awfully  queer  letter-paper,"  she  said. 
"Ruled!  I  didn't  know  that  anybody  ever  wrote  on 
ruled  paper  nowadays,  but  servants.  Eliot  always 
does,  but  it's  so  common  to  use  it,  you  know." 

I  could  hardly  keep  the  tears  back  to  have  her 
make  fun  of  poor  little  Davy's  letter.  For  a  few 
minutes  I  was  so  homesick  that  I  wished  I  was  back 
with  Davy  in  the  plain  old  farmhouse,  where  it 
doesn't  make  any  difference  whether  there  are  lines 
on  your  paper  or  not,  or  any  such  silly  things  as  that. 
Everybody  uses  ruled  paper  there,  for  that  matter, 
because  Squire  Jaynes  doesn't  sell  any  other  kind. 
What  difference  does  it  make,  anyhow,  I  should  like 
to  know .? 

I  went  off  to  my  own  room  with  the  letter,  and 
Joyce  followed  me  and  found  me  crying.     She  made 


BITS  FROM  BETTYS  DIARV.  IO9 

a  face  out  of  the  window  at  Eugeniaj  and  told  me 
never  to  mind  what  anybody  said.  There  was  a  big 
wide  world  outside  of  Eugenia's  set  with  its  silly  airs 
and  graces,  and  sensible  people  made  fun  of  them. 
Then  she  offered  to  illustrate  my  answer  to  Davy's 
letter,  and  drew  a  picture  of  Calico  and  Lad  at  the 
top  of  the  page,  and  Lloyd's  parrot  at  the  bottom. 
That  reminded  me  to  tell  him  some  funny  things  the 
parrot  had  said,  and  in  writing  them  I  got  over  my 
homesickness, 

Eugenia  has  a  crest  on  her  paper,  because  some 
one  of  her  great-great-great-grandfathers,  almost  back 
to  Noah,  was  a  lord.  But  it  doesn't  make  her  remem- 
ber to  act  like  a  lady.  She  ought  to  be  made  to 
learn  the   lines  that  were    in    my  copy-bouk  -once : 

"  Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 
And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blo©«V 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE    GYPSY    FORTUNE-TELLER. 

There  had  fallen  a  pause  in  the  round  of  merry' 
makings.  After  a  week  of  picnics  and  fishing-parties, 
lawn  fetes  and  tennis  tournaments,  there  came  a  day 
for  which  no  special  entertainment  had  been  planned. 
It  was  a  hot  morning,  and  the  girls  were  out  under 
the  trees :  Betty  in  the  swing,  with  a  book  in  her 
lap,  as  usual,  Joyce  on  a  camp-stool  near  by,  making 
a  sketch  of  her,  and  Eugenia  swinging  idly  in  a 
hammock. 

The  Little  Colonel  had  been  swinging  with  her, 
but  something  had  called  her  to  the  house,  and  a 
deep  silence  fell  on  the  little  group  after  her  depar- 
ture. Betty,  lost  in  her  book,  and  Joyce,  intent  on 
her  sketch,  did  not  seem  to  notice  it,  but  presently 
Eugenia  sat  up  in  the  hammock  and  gave  her  pillow 
an  impatient  thump. 

"  Whew !  how  deadly  stupid  it  is  here ! "  she 
exclaimed.  "  I'm  glad  that  I  don't  have  to  live  in  the 
country  the  year  round  !     Nothing  to  do  —  nothing 

liQ 


'i'm    glad   that    I    don't    have    to    live   in   the 

COUNTRY  THE  YEAR  ROUND  !'  " 


THE   GYPSY  FORTUNE  -  TELLER.  Ill 

to  see  —  I'd  turn  to  a  vegetable  in  a  little  while  and 
strike  root.  I  wish  something  exciting  would  happen, 
for  I'm  bored  stiff." 

Betty  looked  up  from  her  story  in  astonishment. 
"  Why,  I  think  it  is  lovely  here !  "  she  cried.  "  I'd 
never  get  tired  of  Locust  in  a  hundred  years !  " 

Eugenia  smiled,  a  pitying,  amused  sort  of  smile 
that  brought  a  flush  to  Betty's  cheek.  There  was 
a  tinge  of  a  sneer  in  it  that  seemed  to  say,  "  Oh,  you 
poor  thing,  of  course  you  like  it.  You  have  never 
known  any  better." 

Betty's  eyes  went  back  to  her  book  again.  Eu- 
genia, thrusting  one  little  foot  from  a  mass  of  pink 
ruffles,  gave  an  impatient  push  against  the  ground 
with  the  toe  of  her  slipper,  which  set  the  hammock 
to  swinging  violently. 

"Ho-hum!"  she  yawned,  discontently.  "I  wish 
that  we  could  go  down  to  the  gypsy  camp  that  we 
passed  yesterday." 

"So  do  I,"  agreed  Joyce.  "It  looked  so  pic- 
turesque with  the  tents  and  the  white  covered 
wagons,  and  that  old  crone  bending  over  the  camp- 
fire.  I  know  a  woman  at  home  who  had  her  fortune 
told  by  a  gypsy,  and  every  single  thing  that  was  told 
her  came  true." 

"  I  wonder  how  they  can  tell,"  said  Eugenia. 


112     THE  LITTLE  CdLCNEVS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

'  By  the  lines  in  their  hands.  It  is  as  plain  as  the 
alphabet  to  some  people.  They  can  tell  how  long 
you're  going  to  live,  whether  you'll  be  married  or 
not,  and  what  sort  of  a  future  you're  to  have.  They 
say  that  there  are  some  lines  in  your  hand  that  mean 
wealth,  and  some  health,  and  there  are  stars  for 
success  and  crosses  for  losses  and  all  sorts  of  signs." 
"  Oh,  how  interesting !  "  cried  Betty,  again  pausing 
in  her  story,  and  spreading  oat  her  little  brown  hands, 
to  examine  them.  Eugenia  held  up  one  of  her  slim 
palms,  and  studied  it  intently,  tracing  the  lines  with 
a  tapering  white  forefinger. 

"  Here's  a  star  in  my  hand,"  she  cried,  excitedly, 
"  and  all  sorts  of  queer  lines  and  marks  that  I  never 
noticed  before.  I  wonder  which  is  the  marriage  line. 
Oh,  girls,  I'm  just  wild  to  have  my  fortune  told. 
Let's  ride  down  to  the  camp  before  lunch." 

*'  Costs  too  much,"  said  Joyce,  holding  her  sketch 
off  at  arm's  length  and  studying  the  effect  through 
half-shut  eyes.  "  Rob  Moore  said  that  his  brother 
Edward  went  over  to  the  camp  with  a  party,  several 
nights  ago,  and  they  had  to  pay  a  dollar  apiece.  That 
bars  me  out,  for  dollars  don't  grow  on  bushes  at  my 
house.  Besides,  Bob  said  his  brother  said  that  they 
are  not  real  gypsies.  The  people  around  here  think 
they  are  a   set  of   strolling  horse  thieves.     Mister 


THE   G  YPSY  FOR  TUNE  -  TELLER.  1 1 3 

Edward  says  that  the  old  woman  looks  like  a  Florida 
cracker,  and  talks  like  one  too,  but  she  vows  that  she 
is  the  seventh  daughter  of  a  seventh  daughter  and 
was  born  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile." 

"That  settles  it!"  cried  Eugenia,  "I  am  going." 
She  turned  the  sparkling  rings  on  her  finger  and 
watched  them  reflect  the  light  as  she  spoke.  "  We'll 
all  go.  It  will  be  my  treat.  I  haven't  touched  my 
allowance  since  I've  been  here,  and  papa  gave  me 
ten  dollars  more  than  usual  this  month.  There  isn't 
any  place  to  spend  money  here  but  at  the  grocery 
and  meat  shop,  and  it's  burning  a  hole  in  my  purse. 
Only  four  dollars  for  all  of  us.  That  isn't  very 
much." 

"  Only  four  dollars,"  thought  Betty,  lifting  startled 
eyes,  and  thinking  of  the  five  nickels  with  which  she 
had  set  forth  on  her  journey.     It  seemed  a  fortune. 

"  Say  that  you  will  go,"  insisted  Eugenia.  "  I'll 
think  you're  mean  things  if  you  don't,  for  it  will  give 
me  more  pleasure  to  take  you  than  anything  I  can 
possibly  think  of." 

"Yes,  I'll  be  glad  to  go,"  said  Joyce.  "It  is 
awfully  sweet  of  you  to  stand  treat,  Eugenia." 

"I  think  so,  too,"  exclaimed  Betty,  adding  her 
thanks.  Joyce  rose,  gathering  up  her  sketching 
materials. 


114     "^HE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  house  ? "  asked  Eugenia 
"  Then  ask  Lloyd  if  she  won't  send  word  to  Alec  to 
saddle  the  ponies,  and  tell  her  we  want  her  to  take 
a  short  ride  with  us  before  lunch.  Don't  say  where 
we  are  going.     We'll  surprise  her." 

'■'  All  right,"  answered  Joyce,  moving  off  down  the 
path. 

"And  Joyce,"  called  Eugenia  after  her,  "please 
tell  Eliot  to  brush  my  hat  and  put  some  new  laces 
in  my  boots,  I'll  be  there  by  the  time  the  ponies 
are  at  the  house.  Don't  you  think  it  will  be  fun  ? " 
she  added,  turning  to  Betty,  when  they  were  left 
alone.  In  the  role  of  Lady  Bountiful  she  felt  very 
friendly  and  gracious. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  "  cried  Betty.  "  I  think  it  will  be 
perfectly  lovely.  It  is  so  generous  of  you,  Eugenia, 
to  spend  so  much  for  our  pleasure !  " 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  answered  Eugenia,  loftily. 
"  Plenty  more  where  that  came  from." 

On  the  way  to  the  house,  Joyce  met  Mrs.  Sherman 
ariving  toward  her  in  a  dog-cart.  "  Do  you  want  ta 
drive  down  to  the  post-office  with  me .? "  she  asked. 
"There  is  room  for  one  more." 

Joyce  shook  her  head  and  walked  on,  singing  gaily, 
over  her  shoulder,  "  Other  fish  to  fry,  so  it  can't  be  I. 
Thank  you  kindly,  ma'am  ! " 


THE    G  YPS  V  FOR  TUNE  -  TELLER.  1 1  5 

"  Eugenia,  Elizabeth,  do  either  of  you  want  to  go  ? " 
Mrs.  Sherman  asked,  stopping  the  dog-cart  beside 
the  hammock, 

"No,  I  believe  not,  thank  you,"  said  Eugenia, 
languidly.     "It's  so  hot  this  morning," 

Betty's  mouth  and  eyes  both  opened  in  astonish- 
ment at  the  excuse  Eugenia  gave,  and  her  godmother 
smiled  at  the  sight. 

"Well,  Elizabeth,"  she  said,  playfully,  "I  see  that 
you  are  not  going  to  leave  me  in  the  lurch.  I  knew 
that  I  wouldn't  have  to  go  begging  far  for  company," 

"Oh,  I'd  love  to  go,  godmother,"  cried  Betty,  "if 
it  was  only  any  other  time.  But  I've  just  been  in- 
vited to  ride  over  to  the  gypsy  camp  with  the  girls." 

"To  the  gypsy  camp!"  echoed  Mrs.  Sherman,  in 
surprise.     "  Why  are  you  going  there  .-'  " 

"To  have  our  fortunes  told,"  answered  the  unsus- 
picious child,  adding,  gratefully,  "  Isn't  it  good  of 
Eugenia }     She  is  going  to  pay  for  all  of  us." 

A  smothered  exclamation  broke  from  Eugenia's 
lips,  and  she  darted  an  angry  look  at  Betty.  There 
was  a  shadow  of  annoyance  on  Mrs.  Sherman's  face 
as  she  saw  it. 

"  But  you  mustn't  go  there,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
sorry  to  have  to  disappoint  you,  but  I  couldn't  think 
for  a  moment  of  allowing  Lloyd  to  go  there.     They 


I  1 6     THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

are  a  rough,  low  set  of  people,  —  gamblers  and  horse 
thieves.  It  wouldn't  be  proper  for  you  little  girls  to 
go  near  them.  I  intended  to  mention  the  matter  to 
Lloyd  when  I  first  heard  that  they  had  camped  in  the 
Valley,  and  tell  her  to  avoid  taking  you  on  any  of  the 
roads  leading  to  the  camp.  But  I  forgot  it  until  you 
had  ridden  away.  It  would  have  worried  me  all  the 
time  you  were  out  had  I  not  known  that  Lloyd  is  a 
discreet  child  for  her  age,  and  she  heard  so  much 
said  about  them  when  they  were  here  last  summer. 
I  have  never  thought  to  mention  it  since  that  first 
day." 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Eugenia  ;  "I  had  set  my  heart 
on  having  my  fortune  told." 

"  Mrs.  Sherman  tapped  the  wheel  of  the  dog-cart 
with  the  lash  of  her  whip,  and  sat  considering.  Pres- 
ently she  said,  "  Of  course  there  isn't  any  truth  in 
the  fortunes  they  tell.  One  person  knows  just  as 
much  about  the  future  as  another.  But  I  am  sorry 
for  your  disappointment,  for  I  know  at  your  age  such 
things  are  entertaining.  How  would  it  do  for  me  to 
call  at  Miss  Allison  Maclntyre's  while  I  am  out,  and 
ask  her  to  come  up  to  dinner  to-night  .^  She  is  a 
great  friend  of  mine  and  knows  enough  about  palm- 
istry to  tell  some  very  interesting  fortunes.  She  can 
amuse  young  people  better  than  any  one  I  ever  knew. 


THE   GYPSY   FORTUNE-TELLER.  II7 

Her  two  nephews,  Malcolm  and  Keith  Maclntyre, 
came  out  from  Louisville  for  a  short  visit  yesterday, 
and  I'll  invite  them,  too.  They  are  jolly  boys,  and 
I'm  sure  you  will  find  them  far  more  entertaining 
than  any  of  the  gypsies.  What  do  you  say  to  that 
plan  ?     Will  it  make  up  for  the  disappointment  ? " 

"Yes,  indeed!"  answered  Betty,  and  Eugenia 
smiled  her  approval,  for  she  had  heard  Lloyd  talk 
about  the  Maclntyre  boys,  and  had  been  hoping  to 
see  them.  But  when  Mrs.  Sherman  had  driven  on, 
she  turned  to  Betty  with  an  angry  face. 

" Tattletale,"  she  said,  in  a  sneering  tone.  "Why 
did  you  go  and  spoil  everything .?  If  you  had  kept 
still  we  could  have  gone  and  nobody  would  have  been 
the  wiser.  Now  it  will  be  no  end  of  trouble  to  get 
there  without  her  finding  it  out." 

"You  don't  mean  that  you  are  going  after  all  that 
godmother  has  said  } "  cried  Betty,  with  a  look  of 
horror  in  her  big  brown  eyes.  "  Why,  a  wild  Arab 
wouldn't  treat  his  host  with  such  disrespect  as  that 
after  he'd  eaten  his  salt." 

Eugenia's  black  eyes  flashed  dangerously.  "  Yes, 
Miss  Prunes  and  Prisms,  I  am  going,  I  don't  care 
what  you  say.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  have 
my  fortune  told  by  the  seventh  daughter  of  a  seventh 
daughter,  that  was  born  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile, 


Il8     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

and  all  the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  can't 
make  me  change  it  again.  It  is  foolish  of  Cousin 
Elizabeth  to  be  so  particular,  and  I  am  going  to  do 
as  I  please.  I  always  do  at  home,  no  matter  what 
papa  says.  I've  never  had  to  mind  anybody  all  my 
life,  and  I'll  certainly  not  begin  it  now  that  I  am  in 
my  teens.  It  is  all  nonsense  about  it  not  being 
proper  for  us  to  go  to  the  camp.  Cousin  Elizabeth  is 
mighty  nice  and  sweet,  but  she's  an  old  fogy  to  talk 
that  way.  And  she  needn't  think  she  has  stopped 
me.  I  may  not  get  there  to-day,  but  I'll  go  to  that 
camp  before  I  go  back  to  New  York  if  it's  the  last 
thing  I  do." 

She  sprang  out  of  the  hammock  and  walked 
haughtily  down  the  path,  her  head  held  high,  and 
&er  pink  ruffles  switching  angrily  from  side  to  side. 
Betty  followed  at  a  safe  distance,  reaching  the  house 
in  time  to  see  Joyce  and  Lloyd  come  down,  ready  for 
their  ride.  She  would  have  made  some  excuse  to 
stay  at  home  if  she  thought  that  Eugenia  intended 
to  carry  out  her  plans  at  once ;  but  thinking  she 
would  surely  not  attempt  it  until  a  later  day,  she 
mounted  with  the  others  and  started  down  the 
avenue. 

At  the  gate,  as  they  turned  into  the  public  road, 
they  spied  a  noisy  little  cavalcade  racing  down  the 


THE   GYPSY  FORTUNE -TELLEk.  II9 

pike  toward  them.  Rob  Moore  led  the  charge,  and 
two  strangers  were  following  hard  behind. 

"It's  the  Maclntyre  boys,"  exclaimed  the  Little 
Colonel,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand  and  then 
half  turning  in  her  saddle  to  explain  to  the  girls. 
*'  It's  Malcolm  and  Keith.  You'll  like  them.  They 
stayed  out  heah  with  their  grandmothah  one  whole 
wintah,  and  they  used  to  come  up  to  ou'  house  lots. 
You  remembah  I  told  you  'bout  them.  They  bought 
that  pet  beah  from  a  tramp  and  neahly  frightened  me 
to  death  at  their  valentine  pahty.  I  went  into  a 
dahk  room,  where  it  was  tied  up,  and  didn't  know  it 
was  theah  till  it  stood  up  on  its  hind  feet  and  came 
at  me.     I  neahly  lost  my  mind,  I  was  so  sca'd." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cried  Joyce.  "  I  saw  their  pictures, 
all  dressed  up  like  little  knights  when  they  were  in 
the  tableaux."  She  surveyed  them  with  great  inter- 
est as  the  cloud  of  dust  they  were  raising  rapidly 
drew  nearer. 

"  Which  one  was  it  ran  away  with  you  in  a  hand- 
car, and  nearly  let  the  locomotive  run  over  you } " 
asked  Betty. 

"  That  was  Keith,  the  youngest  one.  He  is  on  the 
black  hawse." 

"  And  which  one  gave  you  the  silver  arrow  ? " 
asked  Eugenia. 


120     THE  LITTLE   COLONEVS  HOVSE  PART\. 

"Malcolm,"  answered  the  Little  Colonel,  putting 
up  her  hand  to  feel  the  little  pin  that  fastened  her 
sailor  collar. 

,  "  Oh,  she's  got  it  on  now  ! "  exclaimed  Eugenia, 
turning  to  laugh  over  her  shoulder  at  the  other  girls. 
"  See  how  red  her  face  is.  I  believe  he  is  her  sweet« 
heart." 

"  It's  no  such  a  thing  !  "  cried  the  Little  Colonel, 
angrily.  "  Eugenia  Forbes,  you  are  the  biggest 
goose  I  evah  saw !  Mothah  says  it's  silly  for  chil- 
dren to  talk  about  havin'  sweethea'ts.  We  are  just 
good  friends." 

"  It  isn't  silly  !  "  insisted  Eugenia.  "  I  have  two 
sweethearts  who  send  me  flowers  and  candy,  and 
write  me  notes,  and  they  are  just  as  jealous  of  each 
other  as  they  can  be." 

"Then  I'd  be  ashamed  to  brag  of  it,"  cried  the 
Little  Colonel,  angry  that  her  mother's  opinion  had 
been  so  flatly  contradicted.  But  there  was  no  time 
for  a  quarrel.  The  boys  had  come  up  with  them, 
and  Lloyd  had  to  make  the  necessary  introductions. 
Eugenia  thought  she  had  never  seen  two  handsomer 
boys,  or  any  one  with  more  courtly  manners,  and  as 
Malcolm  rode  along  beside  her,  she  wished  that  MoUie 
and  Fay  and  Kell  could  see  her  knightly  escort. 

Joyce  and  Keith  followed,  and   Betty   and    Rob 


\         THE   GYPSY  FORTUNE    TELLER.  121 

brought  up  the  rear.  The  Little  Colonel  led  the 
way.  At  the  station  she  turned,  saying,  "  Which 
way  do  you  all  want  to  go  ? " 

"  Have  you  ever  been  down  by  the  gypsy  camp  ?  " 
asked  Malcolm.  "  We  boys  passed  that  way  a  little 
while  ago,  and  they  were  playing  on  banjos  and 
dancing,  and  having  a  fine  old  time.  It's  quite  a 
sight." 

"  Oh,  yes,  let's  go  !  "  cried  Eugenia.  "  I'm  wild 
to  see  it  and  have  my  fortune  told.  Joyce  and  I 
were  talking  about  it  a  little  while  before  we  started. 
You  want  to  go,  don't  you,  Joyce .'' "  she  called  back 
over  her  shoulder. 

"  What's  that  ? "  she  answered.  "  To  the  gypsy 
camp .''  Of  course.  I  thought  that  that  was  where 
we  had  decided  to  go  when  we  started." 

She  had  been  in  the  house  when  Mrs,  Sherman 
had  discussed  the  matter  with  Eugenia  and  Betty, 
and  was  wholly  unconscious  that  there  was  any  ob- 
jection to  their  going. 

"I'm  afraid  mothah  might  not  want  us  to  go,"  said 
Lloyd.  "  Maybe  it  would  be  bettah  to  wait  until 
anothah  day  and  ask  her." 

Rob  and  Betty  had  fallen  a  little  behind  the  others, 
having  spied  a  bunch  of  four-leafed  clovers,  and  Rob 
had  dismounted  to  pick  them,  so  they  did  not  hear 


122      THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

the  discussion  that  followed.  Lloyd  was  not  willing 
to  go  without  her  mother's  permission,  remembering 
what  had  been  said  about  the  camp  the  previous 
summer,  but  Eugenia  had  her  way  as  she  usually 
did.  Her  influence  over  Lloyd  was  growing  stronger 
every  day. 

Busily  talking  with  Rob,  as  they  followed  along, 
Betty  did  not  notice  where  they  were  going,  until 
the  strumming  of  a  banjo  and  loud  singing  drew  her 
attention  to  the  fact  that  they  were  almost  upon  the 
gypsy  camp. 

*'  Oh,  we  mustn't  go  in  here  !  "  she  called,  in  alarm, 
seeing  that  the  other  girls  were  dismounting,  and  the 
boys  were  hitching  their  ponies  along  the  fence. 

"  Why .'' "  asked  Joyce,  pausing  in  the  act  of 
springing  from  the  saddle. 

"  Godmother  said  we  mustn't.  Not  an  hour  ago, 
she  said  it  wasn't  a  proper  place  for  us,  and  that  she 
wouldn't  think  for  a  moment  of  allowing  Lloyd  to 
come.  When  she  saw  that  we  were  disappointed, 
she  planned  an  entertainment  for  us  to-night,  and 
we  agreed  to  it,  both  of  us,  Eugenia  and  L  Eugenia 
knows  she  did." 

There  were  some  very  curious  glances  exchanged 
in  the  little  group,  and  the  boys  drew  to  one  side, 
leaving  the  girls  to  settle  the  matter  between  them. 


THE   GYPSY  FORTUNE-TELLER.  1 23 

Eugenia  darted  a  glance  at  Betty  that  would  have 
withered  her  if  it  could. 

"  For  goodness'  sake  don't  make  such  an  everlast- 
ing fuss  about  nothing,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Come  on  ; 
it  will  be  all  right." 

"But  Eugenia,"  interrupted  Lloyd,  "if  mothah 
said  I  couldn't  go  that  settles  it." 

"  She  didn't  tell  you,  did  she  ?  "  asked  Eugenia. 

"  No,  but  if  she  told  you,  it  is  just  the  same." 

"  But  she  didn't  tell  me,"  persisted  Eugenia,  grown 
desperate  to  carry  out  her  own  wishes,  and  not  stop- 
ping at  the  truth.     "  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was." 

Putting  an  arm  around  Lloyd,  she  drew  her  aside. 
"  It  is  all  Elizabeth's  imagination,"  she  protested,  in  a 
low  tone.  "  I  never  saw  such  a  little  silly  for  making 
mountains  out  of  mole-hills.  She  is  such  a  'fraid- 
cat  that  she  wouldn't  look  behind  her  if  a  fly  buzzed. 
Now  you  know,  Lloyd,  that,  as  particular  as  I  am,  I 
wouldn't  think  of  going  anywhere  that  wasn't  proper, 
any  more  than  your  mother  would.  I'll  take  the 
responsibility.  I'm  sure  I  am  old  enough,  and  it's  all 
right  for  us  to  go  when  three  big  boys  are  with  us." 

The  others  could  not  hear  what  passed  between  the 
two.  Eugenia  coaxed  and  wheedled  and  sneered  by 
turns,  and  finally  Lloyd  yielded,  and  they  all  started 
in.     All  but  Betty.     She  waited  in  the  lane  alone, 


124      ^-^^   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

riding  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  for  ages  it  seemed 
to  her,  waiting  for  them  to  come  back. 

In  reality  it  was  not  quite  an  hour  that  she  kept 
her  solitary  vigil  in  the  lane.  As  she  rode  back  and 
forth  she  could  catch  glimpses  of  Eugenia's  pink 
dress  inside  the  tent,  where  they  were  all  gathered 
around  the  old  fortune-teller.  Now  and  then  she 
heard  voices  and  laughter,  and  it  gave  her  such  a 
lonely,  left-out  feeling  that  she  could  scarcely  keep 
back  the  tears.  She  knew  tha.t  the  others  thought 
she  was  fussy  and  overparticular,  and  that  helped  to 
make  her  thoroughly  uncomfortable. 

The  fretful  wail  of  a  sick  baby  sounded  at  intervals 
from  the  tent.  The  banjo-playing  had  stopped  on 
their  arrival.  It  was  nearly  noon  when  the  six 
children  came  straggling  out  of  the  tent. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  anything ! "  said 
Eugenia,  triumphantly.  "  Betty  was  a  goose  not  to  go, 
wasn't  she }  Why,  Betty,  she  told  me  my  whole 
past,  and  even  described  the  three  girls  I  go  with  at 
school.  I  am  to  have  a  long  life  and  lots  of  money, 
and  to  be  married  twice.  And  she  told  me  to  beware 
of  a  fleshy,  dark  person  with  black  eyes,  who  is 
jealous  of  me  and  will  try  to  do  me  harm." 

"What  did  she  tell  you,  Joyce.?"  asked  Betty, 
eagerly,  feeling  that  she  had  missed  the  great  oppor- 


THE    GYPSY  FORTUNE-TELLER.  125 

ranity  ot  her  life  for  lifting  the  veil  that  hid  her 
future. 

"She  said  that  I  had  been  across  a  big  body  of 
water  and  was  going  again,  but  the  rest  was  a  lot 
of  stuff  that  I  didn't  believe  and  can't  remember." 

"  She  didn't  give  me  a  dollar's  worth  of  fortune," 
complained  Rob.  "Not  by  a  long  shot."  He  had 
paid  his  own  way  and  now  thought  regretfully  of  the 
two  circuses  to  which  the  squandered  dollar  might 
have  admitted  him. 

"Let's  not  tell  anybody  we've  been  here,"  sug- 
gested Eugenia  as  they  started  homeward.  "  It  will 
make  it  so  much  more  romantic,  to  keep  it  a  secret. 
We  can  wait  and  see  what  comes  true,  and  tell  each 
other  years  afterward." 

"  But  I  always  tell  mothah  everything,"  cried  the 
Little  Colonel,  in  surprise,  "  She  would  enjoy  hearing 
the  funny  fortunes  the  old  woman  told  us,  and  I'm 
suah  if  she  knew  how  sick  that  poah  baby  is  she'd  send 
it  something.     She  is  always  helpin'  poah  people." 

"But  I  have  a  special  reason  for  keeping  it  a 
secret,"  urged  Eugenia.  "  Promise  not  to  say  any- 
thing about  it  for  awhile  anyhow.  Wait  till  I  am 
ready  to  go  home." 

"  Why  .? "  asked  Lloyd,  with  a  puzzled  expressiort 

"  She's  afraid  for  godmother  to  know,"  said  Betty, 


126     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

unable  to  control  her  tongue  any  longer,  and  still 
smarting  with  the  recollection  of  some  of  the  things 
with  which  Eugenia  had  answered  her  refusal  to  go 
into  the  camp  with  them, 

"  It  is  no  such  a  thing !  "  cried  Eugenia.  "  It  was 
all  right  for  us  to  go,  and  I've  a  private  reason  of  my 
own  for  not  saying  anything  about  it  for  awhile.  It 
is  a  very  little  thing  to  ask,  and  I'm  sure  that,  as  a 
guest  of  Lloyd's,  it  is  a  very  little  thing  for  her  to 
do,  to  respect  my  wishes  that  much." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  if  you  put  it  that  way,"  said  Lloyd, 
"  I'll  not  say  anything  about  it  till  you  tell  me  that  I 
can." 

"  You  boys  don't  mind  promising,  either,  do  you  ? " 
asked  Eugenia,  flashing  a  smile  of  her  black  eyes  at 
each  one  in  turn. 

"  Cross  your  hearts,"  she  cried,  laughing,  as  they 
gave  their  promise,  "  and  swear  *  Really  truly,  blackly, 
bluely,  lay  me  down  and  cut  me  in  twoly,*  that  you 
won't  tell." 

Joyce  laughingly  followed  the  boys'  example,  and 
Eugenia  gave  a  significant  smile  toward  Betty,  rid- 
ing on  alone  in  dignified  silence.  "Then  it  is  all 
right,"  she  exclaimed,  loud  enough  for  her  to  hear, 
"  that  is,  if  Miss  Goody-goody  doesn't  feel  it  her  duty 
to  run  and  tell  ** 


THE   GYPSY  FORTUNE-TELLER.  12/ 

Betty  was  too  angry  to  make  any  answer.  She 
rode  on  with  her  cheeks  burning  and  her  head  held 
high.  Mrs.  Sherman  was  sitting  in  the  wide,  cool 
hall  when  the  little  party  stopped  at  the  steps.  The 
boys  had  ridden  down  the  avenue,  too,  and  dismounted 
to  speak  to  her. 

"  I  have  left  invitations  for  you  all  to  come  to  din- 
ner to-night,"  she  said,  as  Malcolm  and  Keith  came 
up  to  shake  hands.  "Your  Aunt  Allison  has  con- 
sented to  play  fortune-teller  for  us.  Have  you  ever 
had  your  fortune  told,  Rob  1  You  are  to  come,  too." 

"  Yes,  once,"  answered  Rob,  cautiously,  catching 
a  warning  look  from  Eugenia.  "  It  wasn't  very  satis- 
factory, though,  and  I'll  be  glad  to  try  it  again." 

Such  a  flush  had  spread  over  the  Little  Colonel's 
face  that  Mrs.  Sherman  noticed  it.  "I  am  afraid 
you  have  ridden  too  far  in  this  noonday  heat,  little 
daughter,"  she  said.  "  You'd  better  go  up-stairs 
and  bathe  your  face." 

The  boys  took  their  leave,  and  Lloyd  escaped  from 
her  mother's  watchful  eyes  to  follow  her  advice. 
When  she  came  down  to  lunch,  the  flush  was  gone 
from  her  cheeks,  but  there  was  an  uncomfortable 
pricking  of  her  conscience  that  stayed  with  her  all 
that  afternoon,  and  deepened  steadily  after  Miss 
Allison's  arrival. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HER    SACRED    PROMISE. 

The  fortune-telling  began  immediately  after  din- 
ner. Miss  Allison  sat  one  side  of  a  screen,  and  one 
by  one  the  palms  were  thrust  through  a  narrow  open- 
ing for  her  to  examine.  Mrs.  Sherman  sat  beside 
her,  so  neither  of  them  saw  the  amused  glances  the 
children  exchanged  behind  the  screen,  whenever  her 
prophecies  contradicted  what  the  old  gypsy  had  told 
them. 

"  I  can  judge  of  your  chief  characteristics  by  your 
hands,"  she  said,  "and  it  is  wonderful  how  much 
palmistry  reveals  in  that  way ;  but  I  shall  have  to 
draw  on  my  imagination  for  your  future  fortunes." 
This  she  did  in  such  a  bright  amusing  way  that 
screams  of  laughter  went  up  from  behind  the  screen, 
and  the  hands  she  held  often  shook  with  merriment. 

Not  having  had  the  experience  of  the  gypsy  tent, 
Betty  awaited  her  turn  with  more  interest  than  the 
others,  and  thrust  her  little  brown  hand  through  the 

12S 


HER  SACRED  PROMISE,  1 29 

opening,  half  afraid.  She  wondered  what  secrets  it 
would  tell  Miss  Allison,  who,  in  addition  to  all  the 
pleasant,  complimentary  things  she  had  told,  had 
added  some  very  plain  truths.  Eugenia's  hand,  she 
said,  showed  its  owner  to  be  extravagant  and  wilful ; 
Malcolm's,  vain  and  overbearing ;  Keith's,  disorderly  ; 
and  Rob's,  lacking  in  judgment. 

Miss  Allison  held  Betty's  hand  a  moment,  not  cer- 
tain to  whom  it  belonged,  although  she  might  have 
guessed,  considering  how  brown  and  hardened  by 
work  it  was.  "  Too  sensitive  and  too  imaginative  by 
far,"  she  said.  "  But  I  like  this  little  hand.  It  will 
always  be  faithful  in  little  things  as  well  as  big,  and 
will  keep  its  promises  to  the  utmost.  It  is  a  hand 
that  can  be  trusted." 

Betty's  face  shone.  What  Miss  Allison  had  said 
pleased  her  more  than  the  fortune  which  followed, 
although  it  foretold  a  long  life  full  of  as  many  inter- 
esting happenings  as  if  she  had  Aladdin's  wonderful 
lamp  to  use  as  she  chose.  She  looked  at  her  hand 
with  a  new  interest  after  she  had  withdrawn  it  from 
the  screen,  and  Keith  found  her  studying  it  again 
after  the  fortune-telling  was  done,  and  the  others  had 
gone  into  the  drawing-room. 

Eugenia  sat  at  the  piano,  Lloyd  twanged  on  the 
harp,  while  Joyce  tuned  her  mandolin  and  Malcolm 


130     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

his  banjo.  Rob  lolled  in  an  open  window,  listening, 
and  beating  time  with  both  feet.  Mrs.  Sherman  and 
Miss  Allison  were  down  at  the  far  end  of  the  wide 
porch,  where  the  moonlight  was  stealing  through  the 
vines  and  shimmering  on  the  floor. 

It  was  on  the  porch  steps  that  Keith  found  Betty 
looking  at  her  hands  again,  as  they  lay  spread  out  on 
her  lap,  and  studying  their  lines  'by  moonlight.  He 
sat  down  beside  her. 

"  How  does  your  Aunt  Allison  know  ? "  she  asked, 
without  looking  up.  "  It  seems  like  some  sort  of 
witches*  work  to  me,  the  way  she  guessed  things 
about  the  rest  of  you ;  and  I  suppose  it's  just  as  true 
what  she  said  about  me,  —  at  least  the  part  about 
being  too  [  sensitive  and  imaginative  is  true,  I  know. 
Cousin  Hetty  says  I  go  about  with  my  head  in  the 
clouds  half  the  time.  I  would  love  to  think  that 
the  other  part  is  true,  too.  She  said  it  in  such  a 
sweet  solemn  sort  of  a  way,  as  if  she  laid  some  kind 
of  a  spell  on  my  hand  that  was  not  to  be  broken. 
*  It  will  keep  its  promises  to  the  utmost,'  she  said,  and 
I  feel  that  it  will  have  to  do  it  now,  just  because  she 
said  so." 

"That  is  Aunt  Allison's  way,"  answered  Keith. 
"  Nobody  knows  how  much  she  has  helped  Malcolm 
and  me  by  giving  us  these,  and  expecting  us  to  live 


HER  SACRET^    PROMISE  13I 

up  to  them."'     He  touched  a  little  badge  on  tne  Jap^ 
of  his  coat,  as  he  spoke.     It  was  a  tiny  :S^'.wer  d 
white  enamel,  with  a  little  diamond  in  the  centre, 
like  a  drop  of  dew. 

"  What  is  that  for  } "  asked  Betty,  curiousJyc  « I 
have  been  wonderhig  why  you  and  your  brother  both 
wear  them," 

"  Aunt  Allison  gave  them  to  us.  She  calls  us  her 
two  little  knights,  and  this  is  the  badge  of  our  knight- 
hood, 'wearing  the  white  flower  of  a  blameless  life.* 
It  began  one  time  when  we  were  out  at  grand- 
mother's all  winter.  We  gave  a  benefit  for  a  little 
tramp,  who  came  very  near  being  burned  to  death 
in  a  cabin  on  the  place.  We  had  tableaux,  you 
know,  and  Malcolm  and  I  were  knights  in  one  of 
them." 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  interrupted  Betty,  eagerly.  "  I've 
seen  your  picture  taken  in  that  costume,  and  it  is 
lovely  " 

"  And  then  Aunt  Allison  explained  %11  about  King 
Arthur  and  his  Round  Table,  and  gave  us  the  motto  ^ 
'  Live  pure,  speak  truth,  righ'c  the  wrong,  honour  the 
king,  else  wherefore  born  .■* '  " 

Betty  repeated  it  softly.  "  How  lovely !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, in  a  low  tone.  All  the  instruments  were 
going  now  in   the  drawing-room,  —  harp,  mandoli», 


132     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

piano,  and  banjo,  and  the  music  floated  out  sweetly 
on  the  night  air  to  the  earnest  Httle  couple  on  the 
steps.  And  the  music,  and  the  moonlight,  and 
Betty's  sympathetic  little  face,  made  it  easy  for 
Keith  to  grow  confidential  just  then,  and  speak  of 
things  that  usually  make  boys  shy.  He  told  her 
of  his  ambition  to  live  up  to  his  knightly  motto, 
and  of  some  of  his  boyish  efforts  to  right  the  wrong 
in  the  big  world  about  him,  and  all  that  he  hoped 
to  do  when  he  was  grown,  and  was  free  to  use  the 
money  his  grandfather  had  left  him. 

"  I  wish  I  could  be  a  knight,"  sighed  Betty  to  her- 
self, moved  to  large  ambitions  by  the  boy's  words, 
and  discontented  with  her  own  small  sphere.  How 
manly  he  looked  in  the  moonlight,  his  handsome  face 
aglow  with  the  thought  of  his  noble  purposes ! 

"It's  funny,"  said  Keith,  looking  down  at  her, 
"you're  the  only  person  that  I  ever  talked  to 
about  such  things,  but  Aunt  Allison.  You  seem 
to  understand  in  the  same  way  that  she  does.  I 
believe  you'd  have  made  a  good  knight  yourself  if 
you  had  lived  in  those  days,  because  that  is  one  of 
the  things  they  had  to  vow,  to  keep  a  promise  to  the 
utmost." 

Betty  smiled  happily,  but  made  no  answer.  Rob 
joined  them  just  then,  and  they  fell  to  talking  of 


HER  SACRED  PROMISE.  1 33 

childish  things  again,  —  games  and  pets,  and  things 
they  had  done,  and  places  they  had  been.  Next 
morning  in  her  "Good  times"  book,  Betty  carefully 
wrote  every  word  she  could  remember  that  Keith  had 
said  the  evening  before,  about  knights  and  knightly 
deeds.  It  was  a  half -hour  that  she  loved  to  think 
about. 

Miss  Allison  had  invited  them  all  to  a  picnic  at  the 
old  mill  on  the  following  day.  They  were  to  go  in 
the  afternoon"  and  come  back  by  moonlight.  It  was 
not  quite  four  o'clock  when  Mrs.  Sherman  stepped 
into  the  carriage  at  the  door,  followed  by  Eliot  with 
an  armful  of  wraps,  which  might  be  needed  later  in 
the  evening.  Every  spare  inch  of  the  carriage  was 
packed  with  things  for  the  picnic.  A  huge  lunch 
hamper  stood  on  the  front  seat  beside  the  coachman, 
and  he  could  scarcely  find  room  for  his  feet  for  the 
big  freezer  of  ice-cream  that  took  up  so  much  space. 
Rugs,  cushions,  and  camp-stools  were  tucked  in  at 
every  corner,  and  Mrs.  Sherman  held  Joyce's  man- 
dolin in  her  lap. 

"  Oh,  girls  !  "  she  called,  leaning  out  of  the  carriage 
and  looking  up  at  the  second  story  windows.  "  Can 
I  trust  one  of  you  to  post  the  letter  that  I  have  left 
on  the  hall  table.?" 

Two  bright  faces  appeared  at  the  same  instant  at 


134     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

different  windows,  and  two  voices  called  in  the  same 
breath,  one  answering,  "Yes,  godmother,"  and  the 
other,  "  Yes,  Cousin  Elizabeth." 

"I  would  take  it  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  "if 
I  were  going  past  the  post-office,  but  I  have  to  drive 
a  roundabout  way  to  the  Ross  place,  to  get  some 
berries  I  engaged  for  the  picnic.  It  is  very  impor- 
tant that  the  letter  should  go  on  to-night's  mail  train, 
and  if  one  of  you  will  drop  it  in  the  box  as  you  go  by, 
I'll  be  so  much  obliged." 

"  Yes'm,  I'll  do  it,"  answered  each  girl  again,  almost 
in  the  same  breath.  With  a  nod  and  a  smile  to  them, 
Mrs.  Sherman  told  Alec  to  drive  on.  The  ponies, 
already  saddled  and  bridled,  were  waiting  in  front  of 
the  house.  The  girls  were  to  ride  by  the  Maclntyre 
place  and  escort  Miss  Allison's  carriage  to  the  picnic- 
ground,  and  had  promised  to  be  there  at  four,  but  the 
hall  clock  struck  the  hour  before  the  last  dress  was 
buttoned  and  the  last  ribbon  tied. 

"  Do  you  heah  that .?  "  cried  the  Little  Colonel,  in 
a  panic  of  haste,  as  the  musical  chime  sounded  through 
the  house.  **  It  will  nevah  do  to  keep  Miss  Allison 
waitin' !  Come  on  !  "  she  exclaimed,  adding,  as  she 
flew  through  the  upper  hall,  "  The  last  one  down  the 
stairs  is  a  pop-eyed  monkey !  " 

"  I'm  not  it !  "  shrieked  Joyce,  racing  past  her. 


HER  SACRED  PROMISE.  1 35 

"  I'm  not  it !  "  echoed  Betty,  darting  ahead  of  them 
both,  and  reaching  the  ponies  first. 

"  Eugenia's  last !  She  is  the  pop-eyed  monkey !  " 
cried  Joyce,  cheerfully,  looking  back  with  a  laugh  as 
she  began  to  untie  Calico.  Eugenia  switched  her 
skirts  disdainfully  through  the  hall,  and  mounted  in 
dignified  disgust. 

"  You  re  elegant,  I  must  say ! "  she  exclaimed, 
scornfully.  "  I  wouldn't  play  such  a  kid  game  ! " 
Nevertheless,  she  dashed  down  the  avenue  at  the  top 
of  her  speea,  when  Joyce  called  out,  tantalisingly, 
"The  last  one  through  the  gate  is  a  jibbering  orni- 
thorhynchus  ! "  In  her  zeal  not  to  be  dubbed  such 
a  title  for  the  rest  of  the  day  as  a  jibbering  orni- 
thorhynchus,  Betty  urged  Lad  along  until  she  nearly 
bounced  out  of  her  saddle,  and  the  letter  lay  on  the 
hall  table,  forgotten  by  both  the  girls  who  had 
promised  to  post  it. 

It  was  a  devious  way  to  the  ruins  of  the  old  stone 
mill,  —  down  unfrequented  roads,  through  meadow 
gates,  and  over  a  narrow  pasture  lot,  then  up  a 
little  hill  and  into  a  cool  beech  woods,  where  the 
peace  of  the  summer  reigned  unbroken.  Piloted  by 
Lloyd,  they  reached  the  place  just  as  Mrs.  Sher- 
man drove  in  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  woods. 

The  vacant  windows  of  the  old  mill  seemed  staring 


135     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

in  surprise  at  the  gay  party  gathering  on  the  hill  above 
it,  although  it  should  have  been  accustomed  to  all 
kinds  of  picnics  by  this  time,  considering  the  number 
of  generations  it  had  watched  them  come  and  go.  No- 
body could  tell  how  long  it  had  been  since  the  mill 
wheel  turned  its  last  round  and  the  miller  ground  his 
last  grist,  but  if  the  stones  could  babble  secrets  like 
the  little  spring,  trickling  down  the  rocky  bank,  they 
would  have  had  many  an  interesting  tale  to  tell  of  all 
that  had  happened  in  their  hearing. 

There  were  many  names  and  initials  carved  in 
the  bark  of  the  old  beech-trees.  Malcolm  found  his 
father's  and  mother's  on  one,  as  he  wandered  around 
with  Eugenia,  and  set  to  work  to  cut  his  own  under- 
neath. Eugenia  seated  herself  on  a  rock  near  by,  to 
watch  him.  Keith  and  Rob,  and  the  other  boys  who 
had  been  invited  to  the  picnic,  busied  themselves  by 
dragging  up  sticks  and  logs  for  a  big  bonfire.  The 
girls  began  a  game  of  "  I  spy  "  behind  the  great  rock 
where  the  columbines  clambered  in  the  spring,  and 
spread  their  blossoms  like  butterflies  poised  on  an 
airy  stem. 

*'  Come  on,  Eugenia,"  they  called,  but  she  shrugged 
her  shoulders  with  what  the  girls  called  a  "young 
ladified  air,"  and  turned  to  Malcolm  with  a  coquettish 
glance  of  her  big  black  eyes. 


HER  SACRED   PROMISE.  1 37 

"I  know  whose  initials  you  are  going  to  cut  with 
yours,"  she  said. 

"Whose?"  asked  Malcolm,  digging  away  at  a 
capital  M. 

«  Oh,  I'll  not  tell,  but  I  know  well  enough.  There's 
only  one  that  you  could  cut,  you  know." 

"  You  needn't  be  so  sure  about  that,"  said  Mal- 
colm, loftily.  "  I  know  plenty  of  names  that  I  wouldn't 
mind  cutting  here  in  this  tree  with  mine." 

"  With  a  heart  around  them,  like  the  ones  on  this 
tree  ? "  she  asked,  pointing  to  a  rude  carving  on  the 
trunk  against  which  she  leaned. 

"  Yes,  with  a  heart  around  them,"  he  repeated. 

"But  there's  only  one  name  you  would  carve  that 
way,  and  put  an  arrow  through  it,"  she  said,  mean- 
ingly. "  At  any  rate,  a  silver  arrow.  Oh,  maybe  you 
think  I  haven't  seen  her  wear  it,  and  blush  when  I 
teased  her  about  it." 

Malcolm  went  on  cutting,  without  an  answer.  He 
had  admired  Eugenia  more  than  any  girl  he  had  ever 
seen,  but  somehow  this  speech  jarred  on  him.  It  did 
not  seem  exactly  ladylike  for  her  to  insist  on  twitting 
him  in  such  a  personal  way  about  his  friendship  for 
the  Little  Colonel.  She  would  never  have  done  such 
a  thing,  he  felt  quite  sure.  For  a  moment  he  half 
wished  that  it  was  Lloyd  sitting  on  the  rock  beside 


138     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

him,  but  Eugenia  could  be  very  entertaining  when 
she  chose,  and  she  was  trying  her  best  now  to  make 
an  agreeable  impression  on  this  handsome  boy  who 
seemed  so  fond  of  Lloyd.  She  wanted  to  be  first 
in  his  attentions,  and,  as  usual,  she  had  her  way. 

"  I  told  you  so ! "  she  cried,  presently,  as  a  large 
capital  L  appeared  under  Malcolm's  initials.  "  I  knew 
you  just  couldn't  help  making  an  L,  and  the  next  one 
will  be  an  S." 

"  I'm  not  done  yet,"  he  said,  with  a  smiling  side- 
glance  at  her,  and  added  two  more  lines,  changing 
the  L  to  an  E.  An  expression  of  pleasure  flashed 
across  her  face,  as  he  outlined  an  F  next  to  it.  It 
would  be  something  to  tell  MoUie  and  Fay.  and  Kell 
next  time  she  wrote,  that  the  handsomest  boy  in 
Kentucky  (as  she  enthusiastically  described  him  to 
them),  with  the  manners  of  a  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  had 
left  the  record  of  his  attachment  for  her  where  all 
might  read. 

She  gave  him  another  smile  from  under  her  long 
black  eyelashes,  and  then  looked  down  with  a  blush. 
He  added  the  heart  to  the  inscription  then,  and 
pierced  it  with  an  arrow. 

While  these  two  played  at  a  game  that  older 
children  had  played  before  them  for  many  a  genera- 
tion (as  the  scarred  old  tree-trunks  bore  silent  witness 


HER  SACRED  PROMISE.  1 39 

on  every  hand),  the  game  of  "  I  spy  "  went  on  uproari- 
ously behind  the  columbine  rock.  The  bonfire  blazed 
higher  and  higher.  It  lighted  the  cool  depths  of  the 
darkening  woods,  and  sent  dancing  shadows  across 
the  deep  ravines,  and  presently  the  picnic  feast  was 
spread  near  by  and  part  of  the  supper  was  cooked 
over  its  coals. 

It  was  by  its  weird  light  that  the  charades  were 
played,  when  the  feast  had  been  cleared  away.  Miss 
Allison  arranged  them.  The  actors  were  all  little 
negroes,  the  funniest,  blackest  little  pickaninnies  that 
ever  sung  a  song  or  danced  a  double  shuffle. 

"  It's  Sylvia  Gibbs's  family,"  explained  Miss  Alli- 
son, to  the  girls.  "  Our  circle  of  King's  Daughters 
had  them  under  its  wing  all  winter,  or  they  would  have 
starved.  When  I  discovered  what  heathen  they  were, 
I  turned  missionary  and  taught  them  an  hour  every 
Sunday  afternoon.  They  will  do  anything  for  me 
now,  and  are  such  clever  little  mimics  that  I  know 
they  can  act  the  charades  charmingly.  Besides,  they 
will  give  us  a  cake-walk  afterward,  and  sing  for  us 
like  nightingales." 

While  Miss  Allison  marshalled  her  flock  of  little 
darkies  behind  the  great  rock,  Mrs.  Sherman  called 
the  children  to  seat  themselves  in  a  semicircle  on 
the  camp-stools  and  rugs  in  front.     "  This  is  to  be  a 


I40     THE  LITTLE   CO  LONE  US  HOUSE   PARTY,    j 

guessing  contest,"  she  explained,  as  she  passed 
a  card  and  pencil  to  each  guest.  "There  must 
be  no  talking,  and  no  comparing  notes.  As  each 
syllable  is  acted,  write  down  the  word  you  think 
is  meant.  The  one  who  guesses  the  most  charades 
wins  the  prize.  Stir  the  bonfire,  Alec,  Now,  all 
ready ! " 

Miss  Allison  came  out  in  front  of  her  audience. 
"This  word  is  the  name  of  a  favourite  book,"  she 
announced.  "  It  consists  of  two  words.  The  first 
word  is  in  three  syllables,  the  second  in  two.  They 
will  be  given  in  five  separate  acts." 

Every  eye  watched  intently,  as  three  little  col- 
oured boys  came  out  from  behind  the  rock  and 
went  through  the  scene  of  a  highway  robbery.  Little 
Jim  Gibbs,  his  white  teeth  and  gleaming  eyeballs 
making  his  face  seem  as  black  as  night  by  contrast, 
strode  out  with  a  high  silk  hat,  a  baggy  umbrella,  and 
an  old  carpet-bag.  He  was  evidently  intended  to  rep- 
resent a  lonely  traveller,  for,  as  he  sauntered  along  in 
front  of  the  audience,  two  other  boys  of  the  Gibbs 
family  sprang  out  of  the  bushes  in  the  background, 
with  white  cloth  masks  over  their  faces.  One  carried 
a  dark  lantern  and  the  other  a  toy  pistol,  which  he 
held  at  Jim's  head.  They  proceeded  to  go  through 
the  traveller's  pockets,  stealing  watch,  purse,  carpet- 


HER  SACRED  PROMISE.  I4I 

bag,  and  umbrella.  After  that  they  took  to  their 
heels,  leaving  the  poor  despoiled  traveller  looking 
mournfully  at  his  empty  pockets,  which  were  turned 
wrong  side  out. 

"  Steal "  wrote  Eugenia  on  her  card,  although  she 
could  think  of  no  book  beginning  with  that  name. 
"Thieves  "  wrote  Rob,  and  any  one  looking  over  the 
shoulders  of  the  group  would  have  seen  several  cards 
which  bore  the  same  word,  but  more  which  their 
puzzled  owners  had  left  blank.  Betty  tapped  her 
teeth  a  moment  with  a  pencil  and  then  triumphantly 
wrote  "rob." 

The  next  act  showed  a  hastily  constructed  house 
made  of  a  clothes-horse  and  heavy  roofing  paper. 
Doors  and  windows  had  been  roughly  outlined  in 
charcoal.  In  front,  a  swinging  sign-board  announced 
it  as  the  "  Traveller's  Rest "  and  offered  refreshment 
within  for  man  and  beast. 

"  Inn  "  wrote  Betty,  quickly  guessing  the  second 
syllable.  She  was  sure  of  the  whole  word,  now,  but 
the  majority  of  the  children  sat  with  their  pencils  in 
their  mouths,  unable  to  think  of  any  word  that  would 
fit  in  place  beside  the  one  already  written. 

"Oh,  this  is  easy,"  said  Betty  to  herself,  writing 
the  name  "Robinson  Crusoe"  after  the  last  act,  as  the 
crew  of  little  pickaninnies,  seated  in  an  old  skiff  which 


142     THE  LITTLE   COLONEVS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

had  been  dragged  up  from  the  mill  stream  for  that 
purpose,  took  up  a  piece  of  patch-work  and  began  to 
sew.     Betty  was  the  only  one  who  had  guessed  it. 

The  next  charade  was  easier.  Every  one  wrote 
*  "music"  on  his  card,  after  the  two  acts  in  which  plain- 
tive mews  floated  up  from  the  rocks  and  the  Gibbs 
family  were  taken  sick.  All  but  Jim,  who,  in  the  high 
silk  hat  he  had  worn  before,  took  the  part  of  doctor. 

"If  they  are  all  as  easy  as  this,"  thought  Betty, 
"  I  can  surely  take  one  of  the  prizes,"  and  she  waited 
eagerly  for  the  next  word.  In  the  first  act  'Tildy 
Gibbs  came  out  with  an  envelope  in  her  hands,  and 
all  of  a  sudden  Betty's  heart  gave  a  guilty  thump  as 
she  thought  of  the  letter  she  and  Eugenia  had  left 
lying  on  the  hall  table.  They  had  forgotten  their 
promise. 

"  But  it  is  Eugenia's  fault  every  bit  as  much  as  it 
is  mine,"  she  thought,  looking  across  the  semicircle, 
where  Eugenia  sat  serenely  unconscious  of  forgotten 
promises.  "  She's  just  as  much  to  blame  as  I  am. 
Oh,  well,  I'll  mail  it  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

But  her  conscience  kept  troubling  her.  "Your 
godmother  asked  if  she  could  trust  you,  and  she  said 
it  was  important.  You  know  you  promised.  There's 
time  yet  to  slip  away  and  post  that  letter  before  the 
mail  train  goes  by." 


HER  SACRED  PROMISE.  1 43 

But  Betty  would  not  listen  to  her  conscience.  She 
resolutely  turned  her  attention  to  the  charades,  until 
all  at  once  she  seemed  to  hear  Miss  Allison's  voice 
saying,  "  I  like  this  little  hand.  It  will  keep  a  prom- 
ise to  the  utmost."  Then  Keith's  conversation  of  the 
night  before  came  back  to  her  about  his  motto  and 
his  badge.  But  more  than  all,  the  thought  of  being 
worthy  of  her  godmother's  trust  in  her  impelled  her 
to  keep  her  promise. 

It  was  a  hard  struggle  that  went  on  in  the  little 
girl's  mind  just  then.  From  the  puzzled  glances 
around  her  she  was  sure  that  she  was  the  only  one 
who  had  guessed  all  the  charades  correctly ;  there- 
fore she  stood  the  best  chance  of  winning  the  first 
prize,  and  she  v/anted  it  —  oh,  how  she  wanted  it ! 
—  for  Mrs.  Sherman  had  said  that  it  was  a  book. 
And  yet  —  her  sacred  promise !  If  she  kept  it, 
she  would  lose  her  only  chance.  It  was  twilight  in 
the  woods,  and  it  would  be  dark  before  she  could  get 
back  to  the  picnic-grounds.  It  wouldn't  be  right  to 
ask  any  one  else  to  go  with  her,  and  miss  the  chance 
of  winning  the  prize,  too.  Still,  there  was  that  prom- 
ise, and  it  must  be  kept  —  to  the  utmost.  All  these 
thoughts  went  on,  swaying  her  first  to  one  decision 
and  then  another. 

She  half  rose  from  the  rug  where  she  was  sitting, 


144     ^-^^  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

then  dropped  down  again.  It  seemed  hardly  fair  that 
Eugenia  should  not  share  the  responsibihty,  yet  she 
knew  her  too  well  to  ask  her  to  go  back  to  the  house 
with  her.  Several  times  she  started  up  and  then 
sank  back  before  she  could  make  up  her  mind.  Finally 
she  walked  over  to  a  fence  corner  on  the  other  side 
of  the  bonfire,  where  the  water-bucket  stood.  The 
ponies  were  hitched  below  in  the  ravine.  So  in- 
tently was  the  group  above  watching  the  charades, 
that  no  one  saw  her  when  she  scrambled  down  the 
steep  path  leading  into  the  ravine,  and  began  untying 
Lad,  Climbing  into  the  saddle,  she  gave  one  regret- 
ful look  at  the  party  she  was  leaving  behind  her,  and 
resolutely  turned  his  head  toward  home. 

It  was  lighter  out  in  the  open,  when  they  had  left 
the  shelter  of  the  woods,  and  she  guided  the  pony 
down  the  hill,  across  the  pasture,  and  through  the 
gate,  glad  that  she  did  not  have  to  go  all  the  way  in 
darkness.  Lad,  knowing  that  he  was  going  home, 
dashed  down  the  road,  choosing  his  own  direction 
when  the  lonely  highway  branched.  He  knew  the 
way  better  than  his  little  rider. 

She  looked  around  her,  thinking  how  long  the  way 
seemed  when  she  had  to  travel  it  all  by  herself.  She 
was  riding  faster  than  she  had  ever  ridden  before,  and 
yet  it  seemed  hours  since  she  had  left  the  mill  whe» 


HER  SACRED   PROMISE.  I45 

she  at  last  reached  the  great  gate  with  the  avenue  of 
locusts  stretching  beyond  it. 

Springing  off  the  pony  when  it  stopped  at  the 
steps,  she  rushed  into  the  hall,  snatched  the  letter 
from  the  table,  and  ran  out  again,  only  pausing  for  a 
hasty  glance  at  the  clock.  Mom  Beck,  who  had  heard 
the  clatter  of  hoofs,  the  quick  step  on  the  porch,  and 
the  wild  dash  out  again,  feared  that  something  was 
amiss,  and  came  running  to  the  door. 

"  What  undah  the  sun  is  the  mattah,  honey .-' "  she 
called,  but  Betty  was  far  down  the  avenue,  and  never 
paused  to  look  back. 

Lad,  turned  away  from  home,  was  not  so  willing  to 
run  now,  and  Betty  could  hear  the  train  whistling  up 
the  road.     It  was  the  seven  o'clock  mail  train. 

"  Oh,  Lad,  hurry  !  "  she  urged.  "  Dear,  good  old 
Lad,  please  hurry  !  I'm  so  afraid  W£  won't  get  there 
in  time." 

Lad  looked  around  at  her  and  stopped  still  in  the 
road.  The  train  whistled  nearer.  Guiding  the  pony 
to  the  fence,  Betty  stood  up  and  broke  a  switch  from 
an  overhanging  tree. 

"  I  hate  to  do  it,  you  poor  old  fellow,"  she  said, 
"but  I  must.  You  must  get  to  the  post-office  in 
time."  Urged  along  by  the  switch  and  her  tearful 
pleadings,  Lad  broke  into  a  run  and  brought  up  at 


146     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOVSK  PARTY 

the  post-office,  just  as  the  postmistress  was  locking 
the  mail-bag.  "  Oh,  Miss  Mattis !  "  somided  an 
anxious  little  voice  at  the  delivery  window,  "  is  it  too 
late  to  send  this  letter  ?  Mrs.  Sherman  said  it  must 
go,  if  possible,  on  this  train." 

"  It's  a  close  shave,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Mattie, 
reaching  out  to  take  the  letter  eagerly  thrust  through 
the  bars.  "  I'm  a  few  minutes  late,  anyhow,  and 
there's  barely  time  to  stamp  it  and  slip  it  in,  so !  " 
She  acted  while  she  spoke,  so  that  with  the  last  word 
she  had  turned  the  key.  A  coloured  porter,  who  stood 
waiting,  caught  up  the  bag  and  hurried  across  the 
road  to  the  railroad  station.  The  train  came  thunder- 
ing down  the  track,  and  he  jumped  across  in  front  of 
the  locomotive. 

Betty  watched  until  she  saw  the  mail-bag  tossed 
aboard,  and  the"  gave  a  deep  sigh  of  thankfulness. 
"WelV"  sh<»  exclaimed  to  Lad,  in  a  relieved  tonei 
"  that's  done !  We're  too  late  for  the  charades,  but 
maybe  we'll  get  back  to  the  mill  in  time  for  the  cake- 
walk.'^ 

It  would  have  been  quite  dark  by  the  time  she 
reached  the  cross-roads  again,  if  it  had  not  been  that 
the  moon  was  beginning  to  rise,  and  cast  a  faint 
whiteness  over  the  dusky  fields.  She  could  not 
remember   which  way  to  turn.     The  first  time  she 


HER  SACRED  PROMISE.  I4J 

passed  that  way  she  had  paid  no  attention  to  direc- 
tion, but  had  followed  heedlessly  after  Lloyd.  The 
second  time  the  pony  had  shot  by  so  fast  that  she 
had  had  no  time  to  consider.  Now  he  stood  still,  not 
caring  which  way  she  chose  so  long  as  he  had  to 
travel  away  from  his  stall  and  feed-bin. 

"It  must  be  to  the  left,"  she  said,  in  bewilder- 
ment, after  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  slowly  turned 
in  that  direction.  But  she  had  taken  the  wrong  way. 
She  went  on  and  on,  wondering  why  she  did  not  come 
to  a  gate,  when  the  road  suddenly  turned  into  a  nar- 
row wagon  track,  with  dark  corn-fields  on  each  side. 
There  was  not  a  house  or  a  human  being  in  sight. 

The  moon  was  not  high  enough  yet  to  dispel  much 
of  the  gloom  of  the  twilight,  and  bullbats  were 
circling  overhead,  dipping  so  low  at  times  that  once 
they  almost  brushed  hir  faca 

"  Obj,  I'm  lost !  "  she  whispered,  with  trembling 
lips.  All  of  a  sudden  there  was  a  rustling  of  the 
high  corn,  and  out  of  it  limped  a  big  burly  negro. 
He  had  a  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  savage-eyed 
dog  skulked  at  his  heels.  Betty  nearly  screamed  in 
her  terror  at  this  sudden  appearance.  She  knew  at 
a  glance  that  the  fellow  must  be  "Limping  Tige," 
one  of  the  worst  characters  in  the  county.  He  had 
just  served  a  third  term  in  the  penitentiary,  and  she 


148     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

had  heard  Mom  Beck  say  that  nobody  in  the  Valley 
would  draw  an  easy  breath  while  Limping  Tige  was 
loose. 

A  cold  fear  seized  the  child,  and  such  a  weakness 
numbed  her  trembling  hands  that  she  could  scarcely 
hold  the  bridle. 

Wheeling  the  pony  so  suddenly  that  she  almost 
lost  her  balance,  she  gave  him  a  cut  with  the  switch 
that  sent  him  flying  back  over  the  road  he  had  come, 
at  the  top  of  his  speed.  Now  every  bush  and  every 
tree  and  every  brier-tangled  fence  corner  seemed  to 
hold  some  nameless  terror  for  her,  and  even  her  lips 
were  cold  and  blue  with  fear. 

At  the  cross-roads  she  had  another  fright,  as  some- 
thing big  and  black  loomed  up  in  the  moonlight 
ahead  of  her.  "  Oh,  what  is  it  ? "  she  moaned,  so 
frightened  that  her  heart  almost  stopped  beating. 
The  next  glance  showed  her  that  it  was  some  one 
coming  toward  her  on  horseback,  and  then  a  cheery 
whistling  reassured  her.  Nobody  could  be  very 
dangerous,  she  knew,  who  could  go  along  the  road 
whistHng  "  My  Old  Kentucky  Home "  in  such  a 
happy  fashion. 

It  was  Keith,  who  had  come  to  hunt  for  her. 
They  had  missed  her,  when  the  charades  were  over, 
and,  finding  her  pony  gone    too,  thought  that    she 


HER  SACRED  PROMISE.  149 

must  have  been  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  had  slipped 
away  quietly  in  order  not  to  disturb  the  pleasure  of 
the  others, 

Keith  had  offered  to  ride  up  to  Locust  and  see 
what  was  the  matter,  and  his  surprise  showed  itself 
in  his  rapid  questioning  when  he  met  her  riding 
wildly  away  from  the  place  where  she  had  seen 
Limping  Tige.  It  did  not  take  long  for  him  to 
learn  the  whole  story  of  her  lonely  ride,  and  the 
fright  she  had  had,  for  his  questions  were  fired  with 
such  directness  of  aim  that  truthful  Betty  could  not 
dodge  them.  "  And  you  missed  it  ail  — the  charades 
and  the  chance  of  taking  the  prize  —  and  came  all  the 
way  back  by  yourself  just  to  post  a  letter,  when  you 
didn't  know  the  way ! "  he  exclaimed  again  as  they 
drew  in  sight  of  the  old  mill. 

"  Well,  I  call  that  pretty  plucky  for  a  girl." 

"I  didn't  want  to,"  confessed  Betty,  "but  there 
wasn't  anything  else  to  do.  It  was  a  sacred  promise, 
you  know,  and  I  had  to  keep  it  —  to  the  utmost." 

They  jogged  along  in  silence  side  by  side,  a 
moment  longer.  Then  as  the  bonfire  at  the  old  mill 
flared  into  sight,  Keith  looked  down  at  the  tired 
little  figure  on  the  pony  beside  him. 

"Betty,"  he  said,  with  a  gleam  of  admiration  in 
his  eyes,  "you're  a  brick  1'^ 


CHAPTER   X. 

"FOUND    OUT." 

"What  makes  everybody  so  snarly  this  mom. 
ing  ? "  asked  Joyce,  looking  around  on  the  circle  of 
moody  faces.  The  four  girls  had  been  lounging  in 
hammocks  and  chairs  under  the  trees  for  several 
hours,  and  in  all  that  time  scarcel}'^  a  civil  word  had 
been  spoken. 

"  There  isn't  any  reason  why  we  should  be  cross," 
Joyce  went  on.  "  It's  a  glorious  day,  we've  had  a 
delicious  breakfast  and  a  good  ride,  and  there  is  the 
tissue-paper  party  at  Sally  Fairfax's  to-night  to  look 
forward  to.  But  in  spite  of  it  all  I  feel  so  mean  and 
cross  that  1  want  to  scratch  somebody." 

Betty  looked  up  from  her  book  and  laughed.  "  I 
don't  feel  snarly,  but  I've  been  wondering  ever  since 
breakfast  what  had  happened  to  make  you  all  out  of 
sorts.  Lloyd  looks  as  if  she  had  been  eating  sour 
pickles,  and  Eugenia  has  snapped  at  everybody  who 
has  spoken  to  her  this  morning." 

♦*  That's  a  story !  "  exclaimed  Eugenia,  tartly,  with 
'5° 


''FOUND  out:'  151 

such  a  frown  that  Lloyd  began  singing  in  a  tantalis- 
ing tone,  "Crosspatch,  draw  the  latch,  sit  by  the 
fire  and  spin." 

"  Oh,  hush  up !  "  exclaimed  Eugenia,  crossly. 

"Why,  Lloyd,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  coming  up 
just  then  in  time  to  hear  Lloyd's  song  and  Eu- 
genia's answer,  "you  are  surely  not  teasing  one  of 
your  guests  !     I  am  surprised  !  " 

To  every  one's  astonishment,  Lloyd  flopped  over  in 
the  hammock,  and,  covering  her  face  with  her  arm, 
began  to  cry. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  little  daughter .'' "  asked  Mrs. 
Sherman,  in  alarm,  sitting  down  in  the  hammock  be- 
side her  and  stroking  the  short  soft  hair  soothingly. 
She  had  never  known  Lloyd  to  be  so  sensitive  to  a 
slight  reproof. 

"  Mother  didn't  mean  to  scold  her  little  girl.  I 
was  only  surprised  to  hear  you  saying  anything 
unpleasant  to  a  guest  of  yours." 

"  You-you'd  have  said  it,  too ! '"  sobbed  the  Little 
Colonel,  "if  Eu- Eugenia  had  been  so  mean  to  you 
all  mawnin' !  She's  been  t-talkin  so  hateful  and 
cross  —  " 

"  I  have  not ! "  cried  Eugenia.  "  You  began  it, 
and  you  have  tried  to  pick  a  quarrel  ever  since  we 
came  out  here,  and  Joyce  has  kept  nagging  at  me, 


152     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

too.  You've  both  made  me  feel  so  miserable  and 
unhappy  that  I  wish  I'd  never  set  eyes  on  you 
and  your  horrid  old  Kentucky  !  " 

Here,  to  Mrs.  Sherman's  still  greater  surprise, 
Eugenia  fumbled  for  her  handkerchief  and  began 
mopping  up  the  tears  that  were  streaming  down  her 
face. 

"  Really,  girls,  I  am  distressed ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Sherman.  "  Is  there  anything  serious  the  matter 
that  you  have  been  quarrelling  about,  or  are  you  only 
ill  and  nervous  .-* " 

"  I  nevah  was  so  mizzible  in  all  my  life,"  said 
Lloyd.  "  My  throat  is  soah  and  my  eyes  ache,  and  I 
can't  help  cryin'  if  anybody  looks  at  me." 

"That's  just  the  way  I  feel,"  said  Eugenia,  still 
dabbing  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief,  "and  my 
head  aches,  besides." 

"  I  think  we  are  all  three  taking  bad  colds,"  said 
Joyce,  from  her  hammock.  "  I  haven't  reached  the 
crying  stage  yet,  but  I'm  fast  on  the  way  toward  it. 
Betty  will  be  the  only  one  able  to  go  to  the  party 
to-night,  and  our  tissue-paper  dresses  are  so  pretty." 

Mrs.  Sherman  looked  from  one  flushed  face  to 
another  with  a  puzzled  expression.  "  I  don't  know 
what  to  think,"  she  said,  "but  if  I  were  not  sure  that 
you   have  been  no  place  where  you  possibly  could 


"FOUND  OUT.''  153 

have  been  exposed,  I  should  be  afraid  that  you  are 
all  taking  the  measles.  Doctor  Fuller  told  me  the 
other  day  that  there  are  several  children  in  the  gypsy 
camp  down  with  it,  and  one  poor  little  baby  had  died. 
It  didn't  have  proper  attention.  Why,  what  is  the 
matter,  girls  ?  "  Mrs.  Sherman  paused,  having  seen 
a  startled  glance  pass  from  Lloyd  to  Eugenia . 

"  Surely  you  haven't  been  near  any  of  those  peo- 
ple, have  you .''  Passed  them  on  the  road,  or  met 
them  at  the  station  at  any  time  .? " 

There  was  a  long  pause  in  which  nobody  answered, 
and  in  which  Betty  could  hear  her  heart  beat  fast. 

"  Lloyd,  answer  me,"  insisted  Mrs.  Sherman. 

"  Eu-Eugenia  won't  1-let  me !  "  sobbed  the  Lit- 
tle Colonel.  "She  made  us  all  p-promise  not  to 
tell." 

Eugenia's  face  turned  pale,  but  she  lifted  her  head 
defiantly  as  Mrs.  Sherman  turned  to  her,  calling  her 
name. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  child  }  You  surely  didn't 
go  to  the  camp  that  morning  when  I  warned  yoo 
not  to .? " 

"Yes,  we  did,"  answered  Eugenia,  a  little  fright- 
ened now  by  the  expression  of  Mrs.  Sherman's  face, 
but  still  defiant. 

"When  was  it?" 


154     '^HE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

"About  a  week  ago,  I  think.  I  don't  remember 
exactly." 

"  It's  been  nine  days,"  said  Betty,  counting  her 
fingers.  "  I  remember  it  because  it  was  the  day 
before  the  picnic  at  the  old  mill." 

"  And  there  was  a  sick  baby  in  the  tent  when  we 
went  in  to  have  our  fortunes  told,"  added  Joyce. 
"  It  lay  in  the  old  woman's  lap  all  the  time  she  held 
my  hand,  and  it  kept  turning  its  head  from  side  to 
side,  and  fretting  in  a  weak  little  voice  as  if  it  didn't 
have  strength  to  cry  hard.  That  must  have  been 
the  poor  little  thing  that  died." 

"And  you  all  went  into  that  tent  and  all  let  that 
old  woman  hold  your  hands  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Sher- 
man, looking  around  from  one  to  another  with  a 
distressed  face. 

"No,  mothah,"  cried  the  Little  Colonel,  "Betty 
didn't  go,  and  she  tried  to  keep  us  from  goin'.  She 
said  you  wouldn't  like  it." 

A  loving  smile  of  unspoken  approval,  that  made 
Betty's  heart  glow  with  pleasure,  lighted  Mrs,  Sher- 
man's face  for  an  instant.  Then  she  turned  to  the 
others. 

"  Well,  I'll  send  for  Doctor  Fuller  immediately.  If 
it  proves  to  be  the  measles,  we  will  turn  the  house 
into  a  hospital  at  once.     If  the  old  saying  is  true 


i  "FOUND   OUT,"*  155 

tliat  misery  loves  company,  then  you  ought  to  be  a 
contented  quartette." 

''Oh,  I've  already  had  the  measles,"  said  Betty, 
quickly,  "two  years  ago." 

"  Then  I'm  glad  that  you  will  not  have  to  suffer 
for  the  disobedience  of  the  others,"  answered  her 
godmother.  "  It  has  brought  its  own  punishment 
this  time,  so  I'll  not  add  a  scolding.  I'll  leave  the 
measles,  if  that's  what  it  turns  out  to  be,  to  preach 
you  a  sermon  on  the  text,  '  Be  sure  your  sin  will  find 
you  out.' " 

Sally  Fairfax  welcomed  no  guests  from  Locust 
that  night  at  her  party,  for  the  doctor  made  his  visit 
and  pronounced  his  verdict.  No  parties  for  many  a 
long  day.  Lloyd  and  Eugenia  and  Joyce  had  the 
measles,  and  nobody  would  want  Betty  to  come  for 
fear  of  the  contagion. 

Mrs.  Sherman  and  Eliot  and  Mom  Beck  went  from 
one  darkened  room  to  another  with  hot  lemonade, 
and  Betty  was  left  to  roam  about  the  place  by  her- 
self. Once  she  slipped  into  the  sewing-room  where 
the  tissue-paper  costumes  were  laid  out  in  readiness 
beside  the  dainty  little  flower-shaped  hats.  Joyce's 
was  patterned  after  a  pale  blue  morning-glory,  and 
Eugenia's  a  scarlet  poppy.  Lloyd's  looked  like  a 
pink  hyacinth,  and  Betty's  a  daffodil. 


156     THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

"  It's  too  bad,"  mourned  Betty,  tilting  the  graceful 
daffodil  blossom  of  a  hat  on  her  brown  curls,  and 
admiring  it  in  the  mirror.  "/  haven't  got  the 
measles,  and  this  is  so  sweet,  it's  a  pity  not  to  wear 
it  somewhere." 

Late  that  evening  she  heard  the  Little  Colonel 
grumbling  :  "  Well,  this  is  a  house  pahty  suah  enough, 
I  must  say !  Heah  we  are  in  the  house,  and  heah 
we'll  stay  and  miss  all  the  fun.  I  don't  like  this  kind 
of  a  house  pahty  ! " 

"  Nevah  mine,  honey,"  said  Mom  Beck.  "  It'll 
not  be  as  bad  as  you  think.  The  measles  is  done 
broke  out  on  you  beautiful  —  as  thick  as  hops." 

"  But  I  hate  this  dahk  room,"  wailed  the  Little 
Colonel,  "and  it's  so  poky  and  tiahsome,  and  I  am 
so  hot  and  I  ache  all  ovah  —  " 

Then  Betty  heard  Mrs.  Sherman  go  into  the  room, 
and  the  fretting  ceased  as  her  cool  hand  stroked  the 
hot  little  forehead,  and  her  voice  began  a  slumber 
song.     It  was  the  "White  Seal's  Lullaby." 

«' '  Oh,  hush  thee  my  baby,  the  night  is  behind  us, 
And  black  are  the  waters  that  sparkled  so  green.'" 

How  often  she  had  read  it  in  her  "Jungle  Book," 
but  she  had  no  idea  how  beautiful  it  was  until  she 
heard  it  as  her  godmother  was  singing  it.     There  was 


''FOUND  out:'  157 

the  slow,  restful,  swinging  motion  of  the  waves  in  that 
music ;  the  coolness  of  the  deep  green  seas.  How 
quickly  it  took  away  the  fever  and  the  aching,  and 
Left  the  heahng  of  sleep  in  its  wake! 

«**  Where  billow  meets  billow,  there  soft  be  thy  pillow. 
Oh,  weary  wee  flipperling,  curl  at  thy  ease ! 
The  storm  shall  not  wake  thee,  nor  shark  overtake  thee, 
Asleep  in  the  arms  of  the  slow  swinging  seas.' " 

Betty,  in  her  room  across  the  hall,  leaned  her  head 
against  the  window-sill  and  looked  out  into  the  dark- 
ness. There  were  tears  in  her  eyes.  "Oh,"  she 
whispered,  with  a  quivering  lip,  "if  I  only  had  a 
mother  to  sing  to  me  like  that,  I  wouldn't  mind  hav- 
ing the  measles  or  anything  else  !  " 

The  worst  was  over  in  a  few  days,  and  then  two 
cots  were  carried  into  Eugenia's  room  for  Lloyd  and 
Joyce  to  occupy  during  the  day.  The  windows  still 
had  to  be  kept  darkened,  but  the  girls  managed  to 
find  a  great  deal  to  amuse  themselves  with.  They 
would  not  have  fared  so  well  had  it  not  been  for 
Betty.  Many  an  hour  she  spent  in  the  dim  room, 
when  the  summer  was  calling  to  her  on  every  breeze 
to  come  out  in  its  sunshine  and  be  glad  in  its  cheer. 
Many  a  game  of  checkers  she  played  with  the  exact- 
kig  invalids,  when  she  longed  to  be  riding  over  the 


158     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

country  on  Lad.  And  she  read  aloud  by  the  single 
ray  of  light  admitted  through  the  shutters,  and  told 
stories  until  her  voice  was  husky. 

"  It's  fun,  isn't  it  ? "  said  Eugenia,  one  day  when 
they  were  waiting  for  their  lunch  to  be  brought 
up.  "  I  am  always  wondering  what  is  coming  next, 
for  Cousin  Elizabeth  has  never  missed  a  day,  sending 
up  some  surprise  with  our  meals.  It  is  a  continual 
surprise-party." 

"  We'll  be  dreadfully  spoiled,"  said  Joyce,  "  like 
a  little  boy  at  home  that  I  know.  He  insists  on 
keeping  Christmas  the  year  around.  As  he  is  the 
only  child,  and  they'd  give  him  the  moon  if  they  could 
reach  it,  they  let  him  hang  up  his  stocking  every 
night,  and  every  morning  there  is  a  present  in  it 
for  him." 

"  Cousin  Elizabeth  is  spoiling  us  just  the  same 
way,"  said  Eugenia.  "Those  little  souvenir  spoons 
she  sent  up  with  the  chocolate  yesterday  are  perfect 
darlings.     I  think  the  world  of  mine." 

"  I  wonder  what  the  surprise  will  be  to-day,"  said 
Lloyd,  as  the  jingling  of  silver  and  tinkling  of  ice 
in  glasses  sounded  on  the  stairs. 

"I  know,"  said  Betty,  running  to  open  the  door 
for  the  procession  of  tray  bearers.  "  It  is  conundrum 
salad.     I  helped  godmother  make  it." 


''FOUND   OUT.''  159 

Eliot,  Mom  Beck,  and  the  housemaid  entered  in 

solemn  file,  each  bearing  a  tray  containing  a  simple 
lunch,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  a  fancy  plate 
containing  a  pile  of  crisp  green  lettuce. 

"  Isn't  that  a  dainty  dish  to  set  before  the  king !  ** 
exclaimed  Joyce,  examining  her  conundrum  salad. 
**  Oh,  girls,  how  that  did  fool  me.  I  could  have  sworn 
that  those  were  real  lettuce  leaves,  and  they  are  only 
paper.  But  what  a  clever  imitation,  and  what  a  lot 
of  conundrums  written  inside !  " 

"  See  if  you  can  guess  this  one  ? "  cried  Eugenia. 
"  Isn't  it  funny  1 ''  and  she  read  a  clever  one  that 
set  them  all  to  thinking.  There  was  much  laughter 
when  they  finally  had  to  give  it  up,  and  she  told 
them  the  answer. 

"  Now  listen  to  this,"  said  Lloyd  next,  and  then 
it  was  Joyce's  turn,  and  the  lunch  was  eaten  in 
the  midst  of  much  laughing  and  many  bright  remarks 
that  the  salad  called  forth. 

"You  wouldn't  think  that  having  measles  was 
so  funny,"  said  Betty,  when  the  trays  had  been 
carried  out,  "  if  you  had  had  it  the  way  I  did.  It  was 
in  the  middle  of  harvest,  so  nobody  had  time  to 
take  care  of  me.  Cousin  Hetty  had  so  much  to  do 
that  she  couldn't  come  up-stairs  many  times  a  day 
to  wait  on  me.     She'd  just  look  in  the  door  aad 


36o     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

ask  if  I  wanted  anything,  and  hurry  away  again. 
My  little  room  in  the  west  gable  was  so  hot.  The 
sun  beat  against  it  all  afternoon,  and  the  water 
in  the  pitcher  wouldn't  stay  cool.  Sometimes  I'd 
cry  till  my  throat  ached,  wishing  that  I  had  a  mother 
to  sit  beside  me,  and  put  her  cool  hands  against  my 
face,  and  rub  my  back  when  it  ached,  and  sing  me  to 
sleep.  And  after  I  got  better,  and  my  appetite 
began  to  come  back,  I'd  lie  and  watch  the  door 
for  hours,  it  seemed  to  me,  waiting  for  Cousia  Hetty 
to  come  up  with  my  meals.  I'd  think  of  all  sorts 
of  dainty  things  that  I  had  read  about,  untU  my 
mouth  watered.  Then  when  she  came,  maybe  there 
would  b&  nothing  but  a  cup  of  tea  slopped  all  over 
the  saucer,  and  a  piece  of  burnt  toast.  Or  maybe 
it  would  be  a  bowl  of  soup  half  cold,  or  too  salty. 
Poor  Cousin  Hetty  was  so  busy  she  couldn't  bother 
to  fix  things  for  me.  I  couldn't  help  crying  when 
she'd  gone  down-stairs.     Fd  be  so  disappointed. 

"But  the  worst  thing  of  all  was  what  Davy  did 
one  day.  He  wanted  to  be  kind  and  nice,  and 
do  something  for  me,  so  he  went  off  to  the  pond, 
and  sat  there  on  the  hot  sunny  bank  all  morning, 
trying  to  catch  me  a  fish.  To  everybody's  surprise 
he  did  catch  one  about  eleven  o'clock,  -  -  a  slimy-look 
ing  little  catfish,  —  and  came  running  straight  up  to 


^^ FOUND   OUT"  l6l 

my  room  with  it  in  his  dirty  Httle  hands.  He  smelled 
so  fishy  I  could  scarcely  stand  it,  for  it  was  the  day 
I  felt  the  very  worst.  But  he  didn't  know  that.  He 
climbed  up  on  the  bed  with  it,  and  held  it  almost 
under  my  nose  for  me  to  see.  He  was  so  happy  that 
his  dirty  little  face  was  all  one  big  smile.  He  kept 
saying,  as  he  dangled  it  around,  'Ain't  he  pretty, 
Betty }  I  ketched  him.  I  ketched  him  for  you, 
'cause  you're  sick.* 

"  Ugh !  I  can  smell  that  fish  yet !  I  smelled  it 
all  afternoon,  for  he  took  it  down-stairs  to  have  it 
cleaned  and  cooked.  About  one  o'clock  he  came 
back  up-stairs  after  I  had  had  my  lunch,  and  there 
he  had  it  on  a  plate,  fried  up  into  a  crisp.  I 
couldn't  have  swallowed  any  of  it,  to  save  me,  but 
I  couldn't  disappoint  the  little  fellow  when  he  had 
tried  so  hard  to  please  me,  so  I  had  to  ask  him  to 
leave  it,  and  told  him  maybe  I  would  feel  more 
like  eating  after  I  had  slept  awhile.  So  he  went 
out  perfectly  satisfied,  and  I  lay  there,  growing 
sicker  every  minute  from  the  smell  of  that  fried 
fish.  At  last  I  gathered  up  strength  enough  to 
throw  it  out  of  the  window  to  the  cat,  but  the 
plate  still  smelled  of  it,  and  nobody  came  in  to  take 
it  away  until  after  dark. 

*'  Cousin  Hetty  was  dreadfully  worried  when  she 


1 62     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

found  that  Davy  had  been  in  my  room,  but  he  didn't 
take  the  measles,  and  that  was  the  only  time  I  sav 
him  while  I  was  sick.  1  was  alone  aii  the  timt. 
You  can't  imagine  how  doleful  it  was  to  stay  in  that 
hot  dark  room  all  day  by  myself." 

*•  You  poor  little  Bettykins !  "  sighed  Joyce,  sym- 
pathetically. *'  It's  too  bad  you  can't  have  the 
measles  all  over  again  with  us,  here  at  the  house 
party.  It  really  isn't  a  bit  bad  now.  I  am  enjoying 
it  immensely." 

As  she  spoke  there  was  the  sound  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  in  the  avenue,  and  a  moment  later  a  shrill 
v/histle  sounded  under  the  window. 

**  Hello,  Measles,"  shouted  a  merry  voice. 

"  It's  Rob ! "  exclaimed  Lloyd,  "  Hello  yourself !  " 
she  called  back,  laughingly.  "  Come  in  and  have 
some,  won't  you  .'• " 

"No,  thank  you,"  he  answered.  "You  are  too 
generous.  But  I  say,  Lloyd,  let  down  a  basket  or 
something,  won't  you  ?  I've  got  a  surprise  here  for 
you  all." 

"Take  the  scrap-basket,  Betty,"  said  Lloyd,  ex- 
citedly pointing  to  a  fancy  little  basket  made  of 
braided  sweet  grass,  and  tied  with  many  bows.  "  My 
skipping-rope  is  in  the  closet.  You  can  let  it  down 
by  that  if  you  tie  it  to  the  handles." 


''FOUND  ourr  163 

A  moment  later  Betty's  smiling  face  appeared  at 
the  window,  and  the  basket  was  lowered  to  the  boy 
on  the  horse  below. 

"  I  can't  reach  it  without  standing  up  on  the 
saddle,"  called  Rob.  "  Whoa,  there,  Ben !  Easy, 
old  boy  !  "  With  feet  wide  apart  to  balance  himself, 
Rob  carefully  dropped  something  from  the  basket  he 
carried  on  his  arm  to  the  one  that  Betty  dangled  on 
a  level  with  his  eyes. 

"  One  for  you,  too,  Betty,"  the  girls  heard  him 
say,  but  he  had  cantered  off  down  the  avenue  before 
they  discovered  what  it  was  he  had  left  for  them. 

Betty  carefully  drew  the  basket  in,  fearful  lest 
the  rope  might  slip,  for  "  the  surprise  '*  was  heavy. 
As  she  landed  it  safely  and  turned  the  basket  over 
on  the  floor,  out  rolled  four  fat  little  fox-terrier 
puppies. 

"What  darlings!"  cried  Lloyd,  springing  off  her 
cot  to  catch  up  one  of  the  plump  little  things  as  it 
sprawled  toward  her  on  its  awkward  paws.  "  They 
are  so  much  alike  we'll  never  be  able  to  tell  them 
apart  unless  we  tie  different  coloured  ribbons  on  them. 
I'm  going  to  name  mine  Bob  after  Robby,  'cause  he 
gave  them  to  us." 

"  Let's  name  them  all  that,"  said  Betty.  "  We'll 
be  taking  them  away  to  different  places  soon,  so  it 


164      '^^^   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  TARTY, 

will  not  make  any  difference."  The  suggestion  was 
received  with  applause,  and  Eugenia  sent  Eliot  to  her 
trunk  for  a  piece  of  pale  green  ribbon.  "  I'm  going 
to  have  my  Bob's  necktie  match  my  room,"  she  said. 

"  We'll  all  do  that,  too,"  said  Joyce,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  four  Bobs  were  frisking  clumsily  over 
the  floor,  in  their  respective  bows  of  pink,  yellow, 
blue,  and  green.  They  afforded  the  girls  entertain- 
ment all  that  afternoon,  and  in  the  evening  there  was 
another  surprise. 

In  the  starlight,  when  it  was  dark  enough  for  the 
blinds  and  shutters  to  be  all  thrown  open  in  their 
zooms,  they  heard  a  carriage  coming  down  the 
avenue.  It,  too,  stopped  under  the  window,  and .  in 
a  moment  they  recognised  the  twang  of  Malcolm's 
banjo  and  Miss  Allison's  guitar.  "  It's  a  serenade," 
called  Eugenia.  "  What  a  good  alto  voice  Keith 
has!" 

It  was  an  old  college  tune  that  rose  on  the  air. 

Miss  Allison  had  parodied  the  words  of  the  peanut 

song : 

Any  fellow  that  has  any  mea-^?.^ 
And  giveth  his  neighbour  none, 
He  sha'n't  have  any  of  my  measles 
When  his  mea-j-/i?i-  are  gone. 
Oh,  that  will  be  joyful,  joyful, 
Oh,  that  will  be  joyful,  when  his  mea-sles 
are  gone. 


**  FOUND  out:'  165 

Then  they  sang,  "  My  love  is  like  the  red,  red 
rose "  and  "  Pop  goes  the  weasel,  the  queen's  got 
the  measles."  They  were  all  silly  little  ditties,  but 
the  personal  allusions  made  them  interesting  to  the 
girls,  and  there  was  a  storm  of  applause  from  the 
upper  windows  after  each  one.  Mrs.  Sherman 
brought  out  cake  and  lemonade  to  the  serenaders, 
and  the  girls  hung  out  of  the  windows  as  far  as 
they  dared,  to  see  what  was  going  on  below. 

"  If  we  only  hadn't  gone  to  that  horrid  old  gypsy 
camp,"  lamented  the  Little  Colonel,  "  we  might  be 
down  there  now,  having  a  share  of  the  good  time. 
What  are  you  all  laughing  at }  "  she  called.  "  It  is 
simply  maddening  to  be  up  here  and  listen  to  you 
and  not  know." 

Malcolm  leaned  out  of  the  carriage  to  sing,  teas- 
ingly,  "Thou  art  so  near  and  yet  so  fa,r,"  adding, 
"  Never  mind,  Lloyd,  we'll  come  again  to-morrow, 
and  bring  a  travelling  show  with  us.  Look  out  for 
us  early  in  the  morning,  before  it  begins  to  get  hot." 

"What  do  you  suppose  those  boys  are  going  to 
do  ? "  asked  Eugenia,  as  Lloyd  drew  in  her  head, 
and  the  carriage  rolled  off,  the  serenaders  still 
singing. 

"  I  haven't  the  faintest  idea.  There's  nothing  to 
do  but  wait  and  see." 


1 66     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Although  the  question  was  asked  several  times  that 
evening  before  bedtime,  and  the  girls  amused  them- 
selves for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  guessing  what  kind 
of  a  travelling  show  was  to  be  brought  by  for  their 
entertainment,  not  one  of  them  thought  of  it  again 
next  morning.  The  doctor  had  decided  that  their 
eyes  were  well  enough  to  bear  the  light,  and,  at  his 
visit,  threw  open  several  of  the  blinds.  Mrs.  Sher- 
man drove  down  to  the  station,  and  Mom  Beck  went 
to  the  servants'  cottage.  Only  Eliot  was  left  to  keep 
an  eye  on  the  invalids,  and  she  had  been  invited  to 
bring  her  sewing  and  listen  to  a  story  that  Betty  was 
reading  aloud.  They  had  grown  very  fond  of  patient 
old  Eliot,  for  she  had  been  the  kindest  and  best  of 
nurses  in  their  illness.  The  girls  were  all  lounging 
around  the  room  in  wrappers,  each  with  her  own  par- 
ticular Bob  in  her  lap. 

The  reading  had  gone  on  for  about  half  an  hour, 
when  Eliot's  sewing  suddenly  slid  from  her  lap  to  the 
floor,  and  a  queer  rattle  in  her  throat  made  every  one 
look  up  in  alarm.  At  first  they  thought  that  she  must 
be  having  some  kind  of  a  fit.  Her  hands  were  thrown 
up,  her  mouth  dropped  open,  there  was  a  look  of  wild 
terror  in  her  staring  eyes,  and  her  face  was  deathly 
paie.  It  was  terrifying  to  see  a  grown  woman  seem 
so  frightenedo      She  was  pointing  to  the  door,  and, 


'there  was  one  wild  scream  after  another. 


**  FOUND  our.*'  167 

as  their  eyes  followed  her  shaking  finger,  they  forgot 
her  fear  in  their  own  fright. 

There,  standing  on  its  hind  legs  in  the  door,  was 
an  enormous  bear,  taller  than  any  man  they  had  ever 
seen.  Its  mouth  was  open,  and  a  long  red  tongue 
hung  out  between  its  gleaming  teeth.  Trailing  be- 
hind him  was  a  heavy  rope,  that  showed  that  he  had 
broken  away  from  some  place  of  confinement. 

There  was  one  wild  scream  after  another,  as  the 
girls  sprang  up,  spilling  the  four  Bobs  out  of  their 
laps  to  the  floor.  Eugenia  rolled  under  the  bed  in 
such  mad  haste  that  she  bumped  her  head  against 
the  footboard,  crying  in  an  imploring  tone  as  she 
disappeared,  "  Oh,  don't  eat  me  !  Don't  eat  me !  " 
Joyce  scrambled  up  on  a  high  chest  of  drawers,  and 
from  there  to  the  top  of  the  wardrobe,  where  she  sat 
panting  and  looking  down  at  the  bear,  who  seemed 
surprised  at  his  reception.  After  one  frightened 
scream,  Betty  buried  her  head  in  a  sofa  pillow  like 
a  little  ostrich,  and  made  no  attempt  to  escape.  She 
seemed  glued  to  her  chair. 

The  Little  Colonel,  who  had  stumbled  over  all  of 
the  four  Bobbies  in  her  confusion,  and  fallen  on  top 
of  them  as  she  tried  to  scramble  up  from  her  knees, 
gave  one  more  startled  look  at  the  intruder,  and  then 
sprang  up  with  an  angry  cry.     "  It's  that  old  tramp 


l68     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY, 

beah  that  belongs  to  Malcolm  and  Keith,"  she  ex- 
claimed, in  a  great  passion.  The  girls  had  never  seen 
her  in  such  a  fury. 

"  Get  out  of  heah,  mistah ! "  she  shrieked,  stamp- 
ing her  foot  and  scowling  darkly.  "This  is  the 
second  time  you  have  neahly  frightened  me  to 
death  !  Get  out  of  heah,  I  say,  or  I'll  break  every 
bone  in  yo'  body ! "  She  had  been  so  startled  by 
Eliot's  appearance  and  then  the  general  outcry,  that 
her  nervousness  passed  into  a  rage.  Picking  up  the 
book  that  Betty  had  been  reading,  she  hurled  it  at 
the  astonished  bear  with  all  her  force.  Eliot's  work- 
basket  followed  next,  and  the  pillows  from  the  bed 
and  sofa.  Next  she  tore  off  her  slippers,  and  sent 
them  flying  against  the  brown  furry  back  now  turned 
toward  her.  Not  knowing  what  to  make  of  such  a 
shower  of  spools  and  needles,  scissors,  buttons,  and 
wearing  apparel,  old  Bruin  dropped  on  all  fours  and 
ambled  out  of  the  doorway  just  as  Lloyd  caught  up 
the  water  pitcher. 

A  panting  little  coloured  boy  met  him  on  the  stairs 
and  caught  up  the  rope  trailing  behind  him.  "  He 
won^t  hurt  you,  Miss  Lloyd,"  he  called,  assuringly. 
"He  b'long  to  Mistah  Keith  an'  Mistah  Malcolm. 
They  done  tole  me  to  lead  him  up  heah,  and  I 
stopped  to  shet  the  gate  an'  he  broke  away  from 


^^  FOUND  ourr  169 

me.  They  comin'  'long  theyselves,  toreckly.  I 
b'lieve  that's  them  a-comin'  now.  The  beah  ain't 
gwine  to  hurt  you." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  beah,"  answered  Lloyd, 
"  but  I  hate  to  be  surprised.  It  came  walkin'  in  on 
us  so  easy  that  I  didn't  have  time  to  see  that  it  was 
only  an  old  tame  beah.  It  stood  up  on  its  hind  legs 
lookin'  twice  as  big  as  usual,  and  when  everybody 
screamed  and  carried  on  so,  I  didn't  know  what  I 
was  doin'.  As  soon  as  I  realised  that  it  was  the 
boys'  pet  I  wasn't  afraid,  but  it  made  me  mad  to  be 
startled  that  way.  And  that's  the  second  time  it  has 
happened." 

"Is  he  gone?"*  asked  Eugenia,  poking  her  head 
slowly  out  from  under  the  bed  like  a  cautious  turtle. 

"Yes,  Wash  has  him,"  answered  the  Little  Colo- 
nel, laughing  hysterically  now  that  her  temper  had 
spent  itself.  "  You  girls  look  too  funny  for  any  use. 
Come  down  off  your  perch  on  that  wardrobe,  Joyce. 
It  was  only  an  old  pet  that  the  boys  bought  from  a 
tramp  one  time.  They  keep  it  up  at  *  Fairchance,' 
the  home  that  Mr.  Maclntyre  founded  for  little  waifs 
and  strays.  I  s'pose  that  is  what  Malcolm  meant  by 
a  travellin*  show.  I  might  have  thought  of  that,  for 
they  are  always  makin*  it  show  off  its  tricks." 

Eliot  had  found  her  voice  by  this  time,  and  was 


I/O     THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

sitting  limply  back  in  her  chair  with  her  hand  over 
her  heart.  "  If  that  is  their  travelling  show,"  she 
said,  weakly,  "  I  wish  they'd  choose  another  road.  I 
was  that  scared  I  couldn't  have  spoken  a  word  if  my 
^  life  had  depended  on  it ;  and  all  the  time  I  was 
trying  my  hardest  to  scream.  I  thought  it  was  a 
wild  beast  that  had  walked  in  from  the  woods  to 
devour  us  all." 

"But,  Eliot,"  said  the  Little  Colonel,  still  laugh- 
ing, "you  know  we  don't  have  wild  beasts  in  these 
woods  nowadays.  There  hasn't  been  any  for  yeahs 
and  yeahs," 

But  Eliot  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  and  w^en  the 
boys  came  up  with  a  banjo  and  French  harp  to  put 
the  bear  through  his  performances,  she  watched  the 
dancing  at  a  respectful  distance.  She  was  not  at  all 
sure  about  her  safety  after  that,  as  long  as  she  was 
in  sight  of  the  Kentucky  woods.  She  could  not  be 
convinced  that  all  sorts  of  ravenous  beasts  were  not 
lurking  in  their  shadows,  and  would  not  have  been 
surprised  at  any  time  to  have  met  a  live  Indian  in 
war-paint  and  feathers. 

Eugenia's  frenzied  wail  became  a  byword,  and  for 
many  days  one  had  only  to  say,  "  Oh,  doiit  eat  me  \  "* 
to  start  a  peal  of  laughter. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

SOME   STORIES    AND    A    POEM. 

"  What  is  the  worst  thing  you  evah  did  in  yo'  life, 
Joyce  ? "  asked  the  Little  Colonel.  It  was  the  first 
day  after  their  recovery  from  the  measles  that  the 
girls  had  been  allowed  to  go  down-stairs,  and  they 
were  trying  to  amuse  themselves  in  the  library. 
Time  had  dragged  for  the  last  half-hour,  and 
Lloyd's  question  was  welcomed  with  interest. 

"Um,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Joyce,  half  closing 
her  eyes  as  she  tried  to  remember.  "  I've  done  so 
many  bad  things  that  I  have  been  ashamed  of  after- 
ward, that  I  can  hardly  tell  which  is  the  worst.  One 
of  the  meanest  things  I  ever  did  was  when  I  was  too 
small  to  know  how  cruel  it  was.  It  was  so  long  ago 
that  I  could  not  talk  plainly,  but  I  remember  dis- 
tinctly what  a  stifling  hot  day  it  was.  Mamma  had 
been  packing  her  furs  away  for  the  summer  in  moth- 
balls. You  know  how  horridly  those  camphor  things 
smell.  I  hung  over  her  and  asked  questions  every 
time  she  moved.     She  told  me  how  the  moth-millers 

131 


172     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

lay  eggs  in  the  furs  if  they  are  not  protected,  and 
showed  me  an  old  muff  that  she  had  found  in  the 
attic,  which  was  so  badly  moth-eaten  that  it  had  to 
be  thrown  away.  I  watched  her  lay  the  little  balls 
all  among  the  furs,  and  then  tie  them  up  in  linen 
bags,  and  pack  them  away  in  a  chest. 

"  It  happened  that  I  had  an  old  cat  named  Muff,  and 
as  soon  as  mamma  had  gone  down-stairs,  I  took  it 
into  my  head  to  pack  her  away  in  camphor  balls. 
So  I  put  her  into  an  old  pillow-case  with  a  handful 
of  suffocating  moth-balls,  and  tied  her  up  tight.  She 
mewed  and  scratched  at  a  terrible  rate,  but  I  tugged 
away  at  the  heavy  lid  of  the  chest  until  I  got  it  open, 
and  then  pop  went  poor  old  Muff  in  with  the  other 
furs. 

"  Luckily,  mamma  found  an  astrakhan  cape,  several 
hours  later,  that  she  had  overlooked,  and  went  back 
to  the  attic  to  put  it  into  the  chest,  or  the  poor  cat 
would  have  smothered.  When  she  raised  the  lid 
there  was  that  pillow-case  squirming  around  as  if 
it  were  alive.  It  frightened  her  so  that  she  jumped 
back  and  dropped  the  lid,  and  then  stood  screaming 
for  Bridget.  I  didn't  know  what  had  startled  her, 
and  she  did  not  know  that  I  had  any  connection 
with  it,  for  I  stood  looking  on  as  innocent  as  a  lamb, 
with  my  thumb  in  my  mouth. 


SOME   STORIES  AND   A    POEM.  1 73 

"When  Bridget  came  and  saw  the  pillow-case 
squirming  and  bumping  around,  she  said,  '  Shure, 
ma'am,  an'  it's  bewitched  them  furs  is,  and  I'd  not  be 
afther  touching  'em  wid  a  tin-fut  pole.  I'll  run  call 
the  gard'ner  next  dure.'  So  she  put  her  head  out 
at  the  attic  window  and  screamed  for  Dennis,  and 
Dennis  thought  the  house  was  on  fire,  and  came 
running  up  the  stairs  two  steps  at  a  time.  He  untied 
the  pillow-case  and  turned  it  upside  down  with  a  hard 
shake,  and,  of  course,  out  bounced  poor  old  Muff  in  a 
shower  of  moth-balls,  nearly  smothered  from  being 
shut  up  so  long  with  that  stifling  odour.  She  was  sick 
all  day,  and  Bridget  said  that  it  was  a  lucky  thing 
that  cats  have  nine  lives,  or  she  couldn't  have  gotten 
over  it. 

"I  cried  because  they  had  let  her  out,  and  said 
I  didn't  want  the  nasty  moths  to  spoil  my  kitty's 
fur.  and  Imamma  laughed  so  hard  that  she  sat  right 
down  on  the  attic  floor.  Then  she  took  me  in  her 
lap  and  explained  how  Muff  took  care  of  her  own 
fur,  and  did  not  need  to  be  packed  away  in  the 
summer-time." 

"  That  makes  me  think  of  a  scrape  that  Lloyd  and 
I  got  into,"  said  Eugenia,  "  when  she  lived  in  New 
York.  We  had  seen  a  mattress  sent  away  from  the 
house  to  be  renovated,  and  had  asked  the  nurse  all 


174     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

sorts  of  questions  about  it.  We  concluded  it  would 
be  a  fine  thing  to  renovate  the  mattress  of  one  of  our 
doll-beds.  So  we  ripped  one  end  open  and  pulled 
out  all  the  cotton  and  excelsior  it  was  stuffed  with, 
and  burned  it  in  the  nursery  grate.  Then  we  began 
p  to  look  around  the  house  for  something  to  refill  it 
with. 

"  Down  in  the  library  was  a  beautiful  fur  rug. 
I  don't  remember  what  kind  of  a  wild  beast  it  was 
made  from  ;  I  was  so  little,  then,  you  know.  But 
papa  was  very  proud  of  it,  for  he  had  killed  the 
animal  himself  out  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
had  had  the  skin  made  into  a  rug  as  a  souvenir  of 
that  hunting  trip.  It  had  the  head  left  on  it,  and 
we  were  a  little  afraid  of  that  head.  The  glass  eyes 
glared  so  savagely,  and  the  teeth  were  so  sharp  in 
its  open  jaws !  But  the  fur  was  long  and  soft  and 
thick,  and  we  decided  to  shear  off  a  little  to  stuff 
our  mattress  with.  We  thought  it  wouldn't  take 
much.  So  I  tock  the  nurse's  scissors,  and  we  slipped 
down  into  the  library  with  the  empty  mattress- 
tick. 

"  The  beast's  eyes  seemed  to  look  at  me  in  such 
a  life-like  way  that  I  was  afraid  to  touch  it  until 
Lloyd  put  a  sofa  pillow  over  its  head  and  sat  down 
on  it.     Then  I  began  to  shear  off  a  little  near  the 


SOME  STORIES  AND  A   POEM.  1 75 

tail,  where  I  thought  it  wouldn't  show  much ;  but 
the  mattress  didn't  fill  up  very  fast.  So  I  kept 
on  shearing,  a  little  farther  and  a  little  farther, 
here  a  patch  and  there  a  patch,  until  I  had  taken 
a  great  streak  out  of  the  middle  of  the  back,  and  the 
rug  was  ruined." 

"  What  did  your  father  say  .-' "  asked  Joyce. 

"  Oh,  he  was  furious !  He  said  a  seven-year-old 
child  ought  to  know  better  than  to  do  a  thing  like 
that,  and  if  she  didn't  she  should  be  taught.  But 
mamma  wouldn't  let  him  touch  me,  and  only  scolded 
the  nurse  for  not  watching  me  more  closely." 

"  Now  it  is  Betty's  turn,"  said  Joyce,  when  the 
giggling  that  followed  Eugenia's  tale  had  subsided. 
"  What  mischief  did  you  get  into,  Betty .-' " 

Before  she  could  reply  there  was  a  step  in  the  hall, 
a  tap  at  the  open  door,  and  a  pleasant  voice  said : 
"  Good  morning,  young  ladies." 

"  Oh,  it  is  the  minister's  wife,  Mrs.  Brewster," 
whispered  Lloyd,  jumping  up  from  the  sofa  and 
going  forward  to  greet  her. 

There  was  no  need  of  introductions,  for  the  girls 
had  met  the  sweet-faced  old  lady  several  times. 

"Mothah  isn't  heah,  Mrs.  Brewster,"  said  Lloyd. 
"  She  went  to  town  this  mawnin'  on  the  early  train, 
but  we  are  lookin'  fo'  her  to  come  on  this  next  train. 


1/6     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

And  we  are  just  dyin'  fo'  company,  ou'selves.  Won't 
you  come  in  an'  wait,  please  ? " 

Involuntarily  on  her  arrival  the  girls  stopped  loll- 
ing in  their  chairs,  and  sat  up  straight,  with  their 
hands  folded  primly  in  their  laps.  Mrs.  Brewster 
had  an  air  of  quiet  dignity  that  always  made  people 
want  to  be  on  their  best  behaviour  before  her.  Every 
one  in  the  Valley  was  fond  of  the  minister's  wife, 
but  most  people  stood  in  awe  of  her,  and  considered 
the  turn  of  their  sentences  and  the  pitch  of  their 
voices  when  talking  to  her.  She  never  had  a  pin 
awry.  Her  gray  hair  was  always  as  smooth  as  a 
brush  could  make  it,  and  every  breadth  of  her  skirts 
always  fell  in  straight,  precise  folds.  From  bonnet- 
strings  to  shoe-laces  there  was  never  a  wrinkle  or  a 
spot.  But  the  Little  Colonel  felt  no  awe.  She  had 
discovered  that  under  that  prim  exterior  was  a  heart 
thoroughly  in  sympathy  with  all  her  childish  joys 
and  griefs,  and  in  consequence  the  two  had  become 
warm  friends.  Lloyd  stood  beside  the  rocking-chair, 
where  she  had  seated  Mrs.  Brewster,  and  waved  a 
big  fan  so  vigorously  that  the  bonnet  strings  fluttered, 
and  a  lock  of  gray  hair  was  blown  out  of  place  and 
straggled  across  the  placid  brow. 

"  We  were  tellin'  each  othah  about  some  of  the 
worst  things  we  evah  did  in  ou'  lives,  Mrs.  Brewster," 


SOME  STORIES  AND  A  POEM.  1 77 

said  Lloyd.  "  Won't  you  tell  us  about  some  of  the 
things  you  did  when  you  were  a  naughty  little  girl  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brewster  laughed.  Few  people  would  have 
remembered  that  she  had  ever  been  a  little  girl,  and 
only  the  Little  Colonel  would  have  dared  to  intimate 
that  she  had  been  a  naughty  one,  for  she  was  one  of 
those  dignified  persons  who  look  as  if  they  had 
always  been  proper  and  grown  up. 

"  That  is  a  long  time  ago  to  look  back  to,  dear," 
she  began.  "  I  was  very  strictly  brought  up,  and  the 
training  of  my  conscience  began  so  early  that  I  was 
always  a  good  child  in  the  main,  I  think.  I  was 
more  timid  than  ray  brothers  and  sisters,  which  may 
account  for  some  of  my  goodness,  and  for  the  most 
daring  deed  I  ever  did,  I  was  punished  so  severely 
that  it  had  a  restraining  effect  on  me  ever  after." 

"  What  was  that .-'  "  asked  Lloyd,  with  such  an  air 
of  interest,  that  Mrs.  Brewster,  looking  around  on 
the  listening  faces,  was  beguiled  into  telling  it. 

"  It  was  when  we  lived  in  a  little  New  England 
village,  and  I  was  about  eight  years  old.  Although 
I  was  a  very  quiet  child,  I  dearly  loved  company,  and 
always  felt  a  delicious  thrill  of  excitement  when  I 
heard  that  the  Dorcas  Sewing  Society  was  to  be 
entertained  at  our  house,  or  that  some  one  was  com- 
ing to  tea.     Mother  thought  that  growing  children 


178      THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

should  eat  only  the  simplest,  most  wholesome  dishes, 
so  usually  we  had  very  frugal  fare.  But  on  state 
occasions  a  great  many  tempting  goodies  were  set 
out.  I  remember  that  we  always  had  spiced  buns 
and  tarts  and  a  certain  kind  of  plum  marmalade  that 
mother  had  great  skill  in  making.  It  was  highly 
praised  by  every  one.  But  it  was  not  alone  for  these 
things  that  I  was  in  a  state  of  complete  happiness 
from  the  time  the  company  arrived  until  they 
departed.  I  enjoyed  listening  to  every  word  that 
was  said.  An  hour  before  the  guests  began  to 
arrive  I  would  station  myself  at  the  window  to  watch 
for  them.  I  loved  to  see  the  ladies  stepping  primly 
down  the  garden  path  in  their  best  gowns,  between 
the  stiff  borders  of  box  and  privet,  stopping  to 
admire  mother's  hollyhocks  or  laburnum  bushes. 

"  Children  were  seen  and  not  heard  in  those  days, 
and  as  soon  as  they  had  been  ushered  into  the  guest 
chamber,  where  they  laid  aside  their  wraps,  and  had 
seated  themselves  in  the  parlour,  I  used  to  carry  my 
little  stool  in  and  sit  down  in  one  corner  to  listen. 

"  One  autumn  it  happened  that  for  several  reasons 
mother  had  had  no  invited  company  for  weeks.  I  was 
hungry  for  some  of  the  tarts  and  marmalade  that  I 
knew  would  appear  if  the  guests  would  only  arrive, 
and  one  night  a  plan  came  into  my  head  that  seemed 


SOME  STORIES  AND  A    POEM.  1 79 

to  me  so  clever  that  I  could  hardly  wait  for  morning 
to  come,  in  order  that  I  might  carry  it  out. 

"  Mother  sent  me  on  an  errand  to  the  village  store 
next  day,  and  on  the  way  I  stopped  at  the  doctor's 
house.  I  could  scarcely  reach  the  great  brass  knocker 
on  the  front  door,  but  when  I  did,  standing  on  tiptoe, 
it  sent  such  a  loud  clamour  through  the  house  that 
my  heart  jumped  up  in  my  throat,  and  I  was  minded 
to  run  away.  But  before  I  could  do  that  the  doctor's 
wife  opened  the  door.  I  made  my  best  courtesy 
that  mother  had  carefully  taught  me,  and  then  was 
so  embarrassed  I  could  not  lift  my  eyes  from  the 
ground.  When  I  spoke,  my  voice  sounded  so  meek 
and  shy  and  high  up  in  the  air  that  I  scarcely  recog- 
nised it  as  mine. 

"  *  Mrs.  Mayfair,  please  come  to  tea  to-morrow,'  I 
said.  Then  I  courtesied  again,  and  hurried  off,  v/hile 
Mrs.  Mayfair  was  calling  after  me  to  tell  my  mother 
that  it  gave  her  great  pleasure  to  accept  her  invita- 
tion. But  you  see  it  wasn't  mother's  invitation.  I 
didn't  say  ^mother  says  please  come  to  tea.'  I  just 
asked  them  to  come  of  my  own  accord,  in  a  fit  of 
reckless  daring,  and  then  waited  to  see  what  would 
happen.     I  invited  nearly  all  the  Dorcas  Society." 

"  And  what  happened  ? "  asked  the  Little  Colonel, 
eagerly. 


I  So     THE  LITTLE  COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Mrs.  Brewster  laughed  at  the  remembrance,  such 
a  contagious,  hearty  laugh,  that  her  bonnet-ribbons 
shook. 

"I  never  said  a  word  about  it  at  home,  but  next 
day,  a  little  while  before  sundown,  I  went  to  the 
window  to  watch  for  them.  Mother,  who  had  been 
busy  all  day,  boiling  cider  and  making  apple-butter, 
sat  down  with  her  knitting  to  rest  a  few  minutes 
before  supper.  She  said  she  was  tired,  and  tha,t  she 
would  not  cook  much ;  that  mush  and  milk  would 
be  enough. 

"  She  couldn't  imagine  what  had  happened  when 
all  the  ladies  appeared,  and  she  sent  me  to  open  the 
door  while  she  hurried  to  change  her  dress.  I  fol- 
lowed the  usual  programme ;  invited  them  i'lito  the 
guest-chamber  to  lay  aside  their  wraps  and  mantles, 
and  then  gave  them  seats  in  the  parlour.  Mother  was 
puzzled  when  she  came  in  and  saw  them  with  their 
bonnets  off,  for  she  supposed,  when  she  saw  them 
coming  down  the  path,  that  they  were  a  committee 
from  the  Dorcas  Society,  on  some  business.  But 
presently  one  of  the  ladies  patted  me  on  the  head, 
and  complimented  my  pretty  manners  in  delivering 
the  invitation  to  tea. 

"If  a  piece  of  the  sky  had  fallen,  mother  could 
not  have  been  more  surprised,  but  she  gave  no  sign 


SOME  STORIES  AND  A   POEM.  l8l 

of  it  then.  She  only  smiled  and  made  a  pleasant 
answer. 

"I  began  to  feel  very  comfortable,  and  to  con- 
gratulate myself  on  the  success  of  my  little  plan. 
Presently  she  excused  herself,  and  beckoned  me  to 
follow  her  out  of  the  room.  Without  a  word,  or 
even  a  glance  of  reproach,  she  bade  me  run  across 
the  street  and  ask  my  Aunt  Rachel  and  her  daugh- 
ter Milly  to  come  over  at  once  and  help  her  prepare 
for  the  unexpected  guests.  They  were  both  of 
them  quick,  capable  women  and  fine  housekeepers, 
and  'flew  around,'  as  they  expressed  it,  in  such  a 
marvellous  way  that  at  the  proper  time  the  custom- 
ary feast  was  spread. 

"  It  did  look  so  good  !  I  walked  around  the  table, 
my  mouth  watering  as  I  looked  at  the  tarts  and 
marmalade  and  spiced  buns,  and  all  the  other  tempt- 
ing dishes.  Mother  watched  me  do  it,  and  then, 
just  before  she  invited  the  ladies  out  to  the  table, 
she  sent  me  off  to  bed  without  a  morsel  to  eat,  —  not 
even  a  spoonful  of  mush  and  milk. 

"  I  lay  in  an  adjoining  room,  listening  to  the  clatter 
of  knives  and  forks,  and  the  ladylike  hum  of  conver- 
sation, and  knew  that  the  good  things  were  slowly 
but  surely  disappearing,  and  that  I  could  not  have 
^  taste.     I  was  so  hungry  and  disappointed  that  I 


1 82     THE  LITTLE   COLONEVS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

cried  myself  to  sleep.  That  disappointment  and  the 
lecture  which  followed  next  morning  was  punishment 
enough,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  that  was  the  last 
time  I  ever  invited  my  mother's  friends  on  my  own 
responsibility." 

Mrs.  Brewster  paused  amid  the  girls'  laughing 
exclamations,  and  just  then  Mrs.  Sherman  came  in 
from  the  train,  hot  and  dusty,  and  her  arms  full  of 
little  packages.  "  Come  on  up  to  my  room  with  me," 
she  said  to  Mrs.  Brewster,  who  was  a  frequent  and 
familiar  visitor  at  Locust. 

"  Don't  take  her  away,"  begged  the  Little  Colonel, 
"  she  is  entertaining  us." 

"  My  turn  now,"  laughed  Mrs.  Sherman.  And  the 
two  ladies  went  up-stairs,  once  more  leaving  the  girls 
to  the  task  of  providing  their  own  amusement. 

"Wasn't  that  a  picture.''"  said  Joyce,  when  Mrs. 
Brewster  had  left  the  room.  "  Can't  you  just  see  it  ? 
that  quaint  little  girl  in  her  old-fashioned  dress,  going 
from  door  to  door  with  her  courtesies  and  her  invita- 
tions, and,  afterward,  all  the  ladies  coming  down  the 
stiff-bordered  path  between  the  rows  of  hollyhocks. 
I'd  love  to  draw  that  picture  if  I  could." 

"  Try  it,"  urged  the  girls,  so  warmly  that  Joyce  went 
up-stairs  for  her  drawing  material.  Betty  watched 
her  spread  her  paper  on  the  library  table.    "  I  believe 


SOME  STORIES  AND  A  POEM.  1 83 

that  I  could  put  that  story  into  rhyme,"  she  said, 
after  a  few  minutes  of  silent  thought.  "  I  can  feel 
it  humming  in  my  head." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  know  that  you  could  write  poetry," 
exclaimed  Lloyd.  "Try  it  now,  and  see  what  you 
can  do.  You  write  the  poem,  and  Joyce  will  illus- 
trate it." 

"  I  have  to  be  by  myself  when  I  write,  and  I  never 
know  how  long  it  will  take.  It  is  like  making  butter. 
Sometimes  it  will  come  in  a  few  minutes,  and  some- 
times I  have  to  churn  away  for  hours." 

"  Begin,  anyhow !  "  insisted  the  girls,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  Betty  slipped  away  to  her  room.  At  lunch- 
time  they  teased  her  to  show  them  what  she  had 
written,  but  she  had  only  a  few  Hues  completed,  and 
would  not  let  them  see  even  the  paper  on  which  she 
had  been  scribbling.  After  lunch  the  others  went  to 
their  rooms  to  write  letters  and  sleep  awhile,  but  she 
went  back  to  her  task.  Joyce's  picture  did  not  turn 
out  to  her  satisfaction,  and  she  tore  it  up,  but  Betty 
did  her  work  over  and  over,  rewriting  each  line  many 
times.  When  they  were  all  dressed  for  dinner,  she 
did  not  appear.  Finally  Joyce  went  to  see  what 
kept  her  so  long.  She  found  her  bending  over  the 
paper,  her  cheeks  flushed  and  her  eyes  shining. 

"It  is  done,"  she  cried,  writing  the  last  word  with 


184     THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

a  flourish,  "but  I  hadn't  any  idea  it  was   so  late. 

I  thought  I  had  been  up  here  only  a  few  minutes. 

Some  of  the  rhymes  just  wouldn't  twist  into  shape, 

but  I  think  they  fit  now." 

"  I'm  going  to  take  it  down  and  show  it  to  the  girls, 

while  you  dress,"  cried  Joyce,  catching  up  the  paper 

and  running  off  with  it.     Although  Betty  knew  the 

time  was  short  and  she  ought  to  hurry,  she  could  not 

resist  stealing  to  the  banister  and  leaning  over  to  hear 

how  it  sounded  when  her  godmother,  who  was  sitting 

in  the  lower  hall  with  Lloyd  and  Eugenia,  read  it 

aloud. 

Jemima  Araminta  knew 

Whenever  company 
Sat  round  the  frugal  board,  they  had 

Plum  marmalade  for  tea. 

And  spiced  buns  and  toothsome  tarts, 

And  divers  sweets  beside, 
Were  set  to  tempt  the  appetite 

With  good  housewifely  pride. 

While  walking  out  one  day,  it  chanced 

She  fell  a-pondering  sore. 
A  wicked  thought  in  her  small  mind 

Did  tempt  her  more  and  more. 

At  all  the  neighbours'  doors  she  paused, 

Demure  and  shy  was  she. 
With  downcast  eyes,  she  courtesied, 

And  said,  "  Please  come  to  tea.'''' 


SOME  STORIES  AND  A    POEM.  1 85 

Next  day  along  the  garden  path, 

Just  as  the  sun  went  down, 
A  score  of  ladies  primly  walked, 

Each  in  her  Sabbath  gown. 

Surprised,  her  mother  heard  them  say, 

"  Dear  child  !     So  shy  is  she  ! 
What  pretty  manners  she  did  have 

When  asking  us  to  tea." 

Jemima  now  remembers  well 

They  once  had  company. 
Preserves  and  buns  and  toothsome  tarts 

When  ne'er  a  taste  had  she. 

For,  supperless,  to  bed  that  night, 

She  went,  severely  chid  ; 
No  more  the  neighbours  to  invite, 

Save  at  her  mother's  bid. 

"Bravo!  little  girl,"  cried  Mrs.  Sherman,  while  the 
girls  clapped  loudly.  "  Have  you  anything  else  with 
you  that  you  have  written  ?  If  you  have,  bring  it 
down  with  you  when  you  come." 

"  Yes,  godmother,"  answered  Betty,  over  the  ban- 
ister,  blushing  until  she  could  feel  her  cheeks  burn. 
She  was  all  a-tingle  at  the  thought  of  her  godmother 
seeing  her  verses.  She  wanted  her  to  see  them,  and 
yet,  —  she  couldn't  take  down  her  old  ledger  for  them 
all  to  read  and  criticise.  Not  for  worlds  would  she  have 
Eugenia  read  her  verses  on  "  Friendship,"  and  there 


1 86     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

was  one  about  "  Dead  Hopes "  that  she  felt  none 
of  them  would  understand.  They  might  even  laugh 
at  it. 

Several  minutes  went  by  before  she  could  make  up 
her  mind.  When  she  went  down-stairs  she  had  put 
'  the  old  ledger  back  into  her  trunk  and  carried  only 
one  of  the  loose  leaves  in  her  hands. 

"  I'll  show  the  others  to  godmother  sometime  when 
we  are  alone,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  went  shyly 
up  to  the  group  waiting  for  her.  "  Here  is  one  I 
called  'Night,'"  she  said,  her  cheeks  flaming  with 
embarrassment.     "There  are  four  verses." 

Mrs.  Sherman  took  it,  and,  glancing  down  the 
lines,  read  aloud  the  little  poem,  commencing : 

"  Oh,  peaceful  Night,  thou  shadowy  Queen 
Who  rules  the  realms  of  shade, 
Thy  throne  is  on  the  heaven's  arch. 
Thy  crown  of  stars  is  made." 

"  Oh,  Betty,  that's  splendid !  "  cried  the  girls,  in 
chorus.     "  How  could  you  think  of  it .-'  " 

"  It  is  remarkably  good  for  a  little  girl  of  twelve," 
said  Mrs.  Sherman,  glancing  over  the  last  verses 
again.  '•  But  I  am  not  surprised.  Your  mother 
wrote  some  beautiful  things.  She  scribbled  verses 
all  the  time." 


SOME  STORIES  AND   A   POEM.  1 87 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  know  that !  "  cried  Betty.  "  How  I 
wish  I  could  see  some  of  them ! " 

"  You  shall,  my  dear !  I  have  an  old  portfolio  in 
the  library,  full  of  such  things.  Poems  that  she 
wrote  and  pictures  that  Joyce's  mother  drew ;  cari- 
catures of  the  professors,  the  little  pen  and  ink 
sketches  of  the  places  in  the  Valley  we  loved  the 
best,  I'll  get  them  out  for  you,  after  dinner.  You 
will  all  be  interested  in  them,  especially  in  a  journal 
they  kept  for  me  one  summer  when  I  was  at  the 
seashore.  One  kept  a  record  of  all  that  happened 
in  the  Valley  during  my  absence,  and  the  other 
illustrated  it." 

"  Dinner  is  ready  now,"  said  Lloyd,  jumping  up 
as  the  maid  opened  the  dining-room  door.  As  they 
all  rose  to  go  in,  Mrs.  Sherman  lingered  a  mo- 
ment in  the  hall,  to  take  the  paper  from  Betty's 
hand. 

"  Will  you  give  me  this  little  poem,  dear } "  she 
asked,  slipping  an  arm  around  the  child's  waist.  "  I 
am  very  proud  of  my  little  god-daughter.  The  world 
will  hear  from  you  some  day,  if  you  keep  on  singing. 
Just  do  your  bravest  and  best,  and  it  will  be  glad  to 
listen  to  your  music." 

She  stooped  and  kissed  Betty  lightly  on  the  fore- 
head.    It   was  as   if    she  had  set   the  seal  of   her 


1 88     THE  LITTLE    CO  LONE  US  HOUSE  PARTY. 

approval  upon  her,  and  to  be  approved  by  her  beauti. 
ful  godmother, — ah,  that  meant  more  to  the  devoted 
Httle  heart  than  any  one  could  dream  ;  far  more,  even, 
than  if  she  had  been  made  the  proud  laureate  of  a 
queen. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A    PILLOW-CASE    PARTY. 

They  were  all  sitting  on  the.  vine-covered  porch, 
looking  out  between  the  tall  wTiite  pillars  into  the 
sultry  June  darkness.  The  light  from  the  hall  lamp 
streamed  across  the  steps  where  the  four  Bobs  rolled 
and  tumbled  around  over  each  other,  but  except  for 
that  one  broad  path  of  light  they  could  see  nothing. 
There  was  not  even  starlight. 

"How  hot  and  still  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman. 
"  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  a  leaf  stirring,  and  there's 
not  a  star  in  sight.  I  think  it  will  surely  storm 
before  morning." 

"Betty,"  said  Joyce,  "your  'shadowy  queen  who 
rules  the  realms  of  shade'  has  forgotten  to  put  on 
her  crown.  Now  if  I  could  write  poetry  like  some 
people  I  know,  I  would  write  an  ode  to  Night  and 
compare  it  to  a  stack  of  black  cats.  It  wouldn't 
sound  so  pretty  as  your  description,  but  it  would  be 
nearer  the  truth." 

"  Well,  cats  or  queens,  it  doesn't  make  any  differ- 


IQO     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

ence  what  you  call  it,"  said  the  Little  Colonel,  "it's 
the  stupidest  night  I  evah  saw.  I  wish  something 
would  happen.  It  seems  ages  since  we  have  done 
anything  lively.  Now  that  we  are  ovah  the  measles 
it's  wastin'  time  to  be  sittin'  heah  so  poky  and  stupid. 
What  can  we  do,  mothah  1 " 

"  Let's  tell  ghost  stories,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  who 
knew  what  was  going  to  happen  in  a  short  time,  and 
wanted  to  keep  the  girls  occupied  until  then.  "  I 
know  a  fine  one,"  she  began,  sinking  her  voice  to  a 
creepy  undertone  that  made  the  girls  cast  uneasy 
glances  behind  them.  "It's  all  about  a  haunted 
house  that  has  clanking  chains  in  the  cellar,  and 
muffled  footsteps,  and  icy  fingers  that  c-lutch  you 
by  the  throat  on  the  stairs  as  the  clock  tolls  the 
midnight  hour." 

"  Ugh  !  How  good  and  spooky  !  "  said  Joyce,  with 
a  little  shiver.     "  I  love  that  kind." 

They  drew  their  chairs  around  Mrs.  Sherman  to 
listen,  so  interested  in  the  story  that  two  of  the  Bobs 
rolled  over  each  other  and  off  the  high  porch,  and 
nobody  noticed  their  whining.  Presently,  in  the  most 
thrilling  part  of  her  story,  Mrs.  Sherman  paused  and 
pointed  impressively  down  the  avenue. 

"  Oo-oo-oo  !  what  is  it  .'*  Ghosts  .-' "  shrieked  the 
Little    Colonel,   her   teeth  chattering,   and   in  such 


A   PILLOW-CASE  PARTY.  I9I 

haste  to  throw  herself  into  her  mother's  arms  that 
her  chair  turned  over  with  a  bang. 

"  It  is  a  pillow-case  party,"  answered  Mrs.  Sher- 
man, laughing,  "  but  it  is  certainly  the  most  ghostly- 
looking  affair  that  I  ever  saw." 

Down  the  long  avenue  toward  them  came  a  waver- 
ing line  of  white-sheeted,  masked  figures.  They  had 
square  heads,  and  great  round  holes  for  eyes,  and  the 
candle  that  each  one  carried  flashed  across  a  hideous 
grinning  face,  whose  mouth  and  nose  had  been  drawn 
with  burnt  cork.  The  leader  of  this  strange  proces- 
sion was  a  veritable  giant,  —  the  Goliath  of  all  the 
ghosts,  —  for  he  loomed  up  above  them  to  nearly 
twice  the  height  of  the  tallest  one  in  the  line.  It 
took  two  sheets  to  cover  him ;  one  flapped  about  his 
long  thin  legs,  and  one  swung  from  his  shoulders, 
swaying  from  side  to  side  as  he  moved  noiselessly 
along  with  gigantic  strides. 

"  Oh,  mothah,  it's  awful ! "  whispered  the  Little 
Colonel,  clinging  around  Mrs.  Sherman's  neck. 

"  It  is  almost  enough  to  frighten  one,"  she  replied. 
"  But  they  are  all  friends  of  yours,  Lloyd.  For  in- 
stance, the  giant  is  nobody  but  your  good  friend  and 
playfellow,  Robby  Moore,  on  stilts ;  and  somewhere 
in  that  bunch  of  little  tots  at  the  tail  end  of  the  pro- 
cession are  those  funny  little  Cassidy  twins,  Bethel 


192      THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

and  Ethel.  They  begged  so  hard  to  be  allowed  to 
come  that  their  mother  at  last  consented,  although 
they  are  only  six  years  old.  She  said  she  would 
dress  up  in  a  sheet  and  pillow-case  herself,  and  come 
with  them,  to  see  that  nothing  happened  to  them,  so 
I  suppose  she  is  somewhere  in  the  line.  I  was  told 
that  everybody  in  the  neighbourhood  was  coming; 
old  people  as  wei!  as  children,  but  I'll  leave  you  to 
find  out  for  yourself,  as  the  fun  of  a  party  like  this 
is  in  the  guessing.  They  will  unmask  before  they 
go  home." 

The  procession  glided  on  in  silence  until  it  reached 
the  house,  and  then  ranged  itself  in  a  long  line  in 
front  of  the  group  on  the  porch. 

"There  are  thirty-eight,"  whispered  Joyce.  "I 
counted  them.  Isn't  that  one  at  the  end  funny } 
That  one  in  a  bolster-case  tied  at  the  top,  and  his 
hands  sticking  out  of  the  slits  at  the  sides,  like  fishes' 
fins.  I'm  almost  sure  that  it  is  Keith.  I  could  tell 
if  I  could  only  see  his  hands,  but  he  has  white  stock- 
ings  drawn  over  them." 

The  figures  began  waving  to  and  fro,  faster  and 
faster,  until  they  were  all  drawn  into  a  weird,  uncanny 
dance,  in  which  each  one  flapped  or  writhed  or 
swayed  back  and  forth  as  he  pleased,  in  ghostly 
silence.     The  movements  of  the  ones  in  the  bolster- 


A   PILLOW-CASE  PARTY.  I93 

cases  were  the  most  comical,  and  the  little  audience 
on  the  porch  laughed  until  they  could  only  gasp  and 
hold  their  sides. 

At  a  signal  from  the  tall  leader,  the  sheeted  party 
suddenly  divided,  half  of  the  masked  faces  grinning 
on  one  side  of  the  steps,  and  half  going  to  the  other. 
Then  an  auction  began,  one  side  being  sold  to  the 
other.  The  bidding  was  all  in  pantomime,  and  they 
all  looked  so  much  alike  that  nobody  knew  whom  he 
was  bidding  for,  or  to  whom  he  was  knocked  down. 
The  giant  was  the  auctioneer. 

At  last  each  bidder  was  provided  with  a  partner, 
and  two  by  two  they  all  went  gravely  up  the  steps  to 
shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Sherman  and  the  girls. 
Every  one  spoke  in  an  assumed  voice,  and  recognition 
was  almost  impossible.  The  girls  talked  with  every 
one  in  turn,  but  Rob  and  Keith  were  the  only  boys 
they  had  recognised  when  the  signal  for  unmasking 
was  given,  and  little  Bethel  Cassidy  was  the  only 
girl.     They  knew  her  queer  little  lisp. 

Cake  and  sherbet  were  brought  out,  and  great  was 
everybody's  astonishment  when  masks  were  slipped 
off,  and  the  pillow-cases  jerked  away  from  the  wear- 
ers' rumpled  hair.  To  Keith's  disgust,  he  found  that 
the  partner  whom  he  had  bid  for  energetically,  think- 
ing it  was  Sally  Fairfax,  was  only  his  brother  Mai- 


194     "^HE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

colm,  and  Malcolm  teased  him  all  evening  by  quoting 
aloud  some  of  the  complimentary  speeches  Keith 
had  whispered  to  him  under  cover  of  their  disguises. 

"  Oh,  gracious  !  "  roared  Malcolm.  "  It  was  too 
funny ;  Keith,  fanning  me  with  one  of  those  stubby 
little  stocking-covered  fins  of  his,  and  making  com- 
plimentary/^ speeches  about  my  eyes.  Told  me  he 
would  know  them  anywhere.  And  he  spouted  poetry, 
he  did,"  added  Malcolm,  doubling  up  with  another 
laugh.  "  Oh,  it  was  too  good  !  Hi,  Buddy,"  chucking 
Keith  under  the  chin,  "  are  you  of  the  same  opinion 
still .''  Ain't  they  pretty,  *  mine  eyes  so  blue  and 
tender .? '" 

"  Aw,  hush  ! "  growled  Keith,  in  a  shamefaced 
sort  of  way,  adding,  in  a  savage  undertone,  "  I'll 
make  black  eyes  of  'em  if  you  don't  stop." 

That  was  not  the  only  odd  assortment  of  partners, 
for  Miss  Allison  had  bid  for  plump  little  Mrs. 
Cassidy,  thinking  it  was  one  of  the  boys  in  her 
Sunday  school  class  ;  and  one  little  maid  of  seven 
found  that  an  old  bachelor  uncle  had  fallen  to  her 
lot. 

"  You  see  we  made  a  wholesale  affair  of  it,"  said 
Miss  Allison  to  Eugenia.  "We  drove  around  the 
neighbourhood  in  two  big  wagonettes,  and  picked 
up  whole  families  at  a  time." 


A   PILLOW-CASE  PARTY.  1 95 

"  It  is  the  jolliest  surprise  I  ever  saw,"  answered 
Eugenia,  looking  all  around  at  the  little  groups 
laughing  and  talking  over  their  refreshments.  "It 
is  hard  to  tell  which  are  having  the  best  time,  the 
children  or  the  grown  people ;  they  are  all  mixed 
up  together." 

As  she  spoke  the  buzz  of  voices  ceased,  for  there 
was  a  sudden  blinding  flash  of  lightning  and  a  loud 
peal  of  thunder  that  made  the  windows  rattle.  The 
storm  which  Mrs.  Sherman  had  predicted  would 
come  before  morning,  had  crept  up  unnoticed,  and 
caught  them  unawares. 

"  Come  inside ! "  cried  Mrs.  Sherman,  as,  with  a 
furious  rush  and  roar  the  wind  swept  across  them, 
banging  window  shutters,  whirling  leaves  and  gravel 
in  their  faces,  and  lashing  the  trees  until  they  were 
bent  almost  double.  Another  blinding  glare  of 
lightning  followed,  with  such  a  crash  of  thunder  that 
Eugenia  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears  and  screamed, 
and  Betty  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  Hurry !  "  cried  Mrs.  Sherman.  "  I  am  afraid 
that  some  of  these  flying  shingles,  or  whatever  they 
are,  wUl  hurt  some  one.     It  is  almost  a  cyclone." 

Breathless  and  excited,  they  all  hurried  into  the 
house,  and  banged  the  great  front  door  in  the  face 
of  the  storm.     The  children  tumbled  into  the  draw- 


196     THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

ing-room,  the  smaller  ones  huddling  in  a  frightened 
heap  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  until  the  fury  of  the 
storm  was  over.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait 
with  bated  breath  after  each  vivid  flash  of  lightning 
for  the  terrific  crash  that  always  followed,  and  listen 
to  the  wind  outside  as  it  fought  with  the  sturdy 
tree-tops.  Now  and  then  a  limb  snapped  in  the 
fierce  struggle,  and  fell  to  the  ground  with  a  loud 
crackling  noise. 

"  I  hope  there  will  be  enough  of  a  roof  left  over 
our  heads  to  shelter  us,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  as 
bricks  from  the  chimney  tops  began  rolling  down  the 
roof  and  falling  to  the  ground  below  with  heavy 
thuds. 

"We  expected  to  start  home  about  this  time," 
Miss  Allison  was  saying.  "  We  ordered  the  wagon- 
ettes  to  come  back  for  us  at  ten  o'clock,  but  it  looks 
now  as  if  we  are  storm-bound  for  the  night.  Did 
you  ever  hear  such  a  downpour }  " 

"  It's  the  clatter  of  the  rain  on  the  tin  roof  of  the 
porch,"  answered  Mrs.  Sherman,  speaking  at  the  top 
of  her  voice  in  order  to  be  heard  above  the  deafening 
din  of  the  rain  and  wind. 

For  nearly  half  an  hour  they  sat  waiting  for  the 
storm  to  pass.  Several  games  were  proposed,  but 
none  of  the  children  waxited  to  play.     They  seemed 


A   PILLOW-CASE  PARTY.  1 97 

to  feel  more  comfortable  when  they  were  snuggled 
up  close  against  some  grown  person,  or  holding  some 
elderly  protecting  hand.  But  gradually  the  lightning 
grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  the  thunder  went 
growling  away  in  the  distance,  although  the  rain  kept 
steadily  on.  Mrs.  Sherman  called  for  some  music 
in  the  drawing-room,  and  while  Miss  Allison  and 
Mrs.  Cassidy  played  the  liveliest  duets  they  knew, 
the  children  drifted  out  into  the  hall  and  over  the 
house  as  they  pleased. 

Most  of  the  older  boys  and  girls  sat  on  the  stairs 
in  groups  of  twos  and  threes,  while  from  the  upper 
hall  the  scurry  of  feet,  and  the  singsong  cry  that 
London  Bridge  was  falling  down,  showed  what  the 
little  ones  were  playing.  It  was  after  eleven  o'clock 
when  the  wagonettes  came  rumbling  up  to  the  door. 
The  rain  had  stopped,  and  a  few  stars  were  beginning 
to  struggle  through  the  clouds. 

"  How  cold  and  damp  it  is  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sher- 
man, as  she  stepped  out  on  the  front  porch.  "The 
thermometer  must  have  fallen  twenty  degrees  since 
you  came.  You  will  all  need  wraps  of  some  kind. 
Wait  till  I  can  get  you  some  shawls  and  things." 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  every  one  protested.  "  We  will 
wrap  up  in  our  sheets  again.  We  do  not  need  any- 
thing  else." 


198     THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

There  was  a  laughing  scrimmage  over  the  pile  of 
sheets  that  had  been  thrown  hastily  into  one  corner 
of  the  hall,  when  the  party  ran  in  out  of  the  storm. 
Nearly  all  the  masks  and  pillow-cases  were  put  on 
again,  too,  so  that  the  party  broke  up  in  laughing 
confusion.  Nobody  recognised  his  neighbour  or 
knew  who  he  was  bumping  against  as  he  hurried 
up  to  bid  his  perplexed  hostess  good  night. 

With  a  great  cracking  of  whips  and  creaking 
of  wheels  the  spectral  party  drove  off,  to  the  tune  of 
"Good-night,  ladies,  we're  going  to  leave  you  now." 
Far  down  the  road  the  chorus  came  floating  back 
to  the  listeners  on  the  porch,  "  Merrily  we  roll  along, 
roll  along,  roll  along," 

"  Wasn't  it  funny  .■' "  yawned  Lloyd,  as  she  went 
sleepily  up  the  stairs.  "  But  oh,  I'm  so  tiahed.  I 
believe  if  they  had  stayed  much  longah,  I'd  have 
fallen  ovah  in  a  heap  on  the  flo'." 

All  the  lights  were  out  down-stairs,  and  the  girls 
were  nearly  undressed,  when  they  were  surprised 
to  hear  one  of  the  wagonettes  coming  back.  A 
frantic  clang  of  the  knocker  on  the  front  door 
brought  them  all  to  the  windows. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Sherman ! "  cried  an  agonised  voice 
out  of  the  darkness,  that  they  recognised  as  Mrs- 
Cassidy's,  "are  the  twins  here.?     Bethel  and  Ethel? 


A   PILLOW-CASE  PARTY.  1 99 

We  can't  find  them  anywhere.  I  was  sure  that  I 
lifted  them  into  the  wagonette  myself,  but  every  one 
was  so  disguised  that  I  must  have  mistaken  somebody 
else's  children  for  mine." 

"They  are  not  in  either  wagonette,"  added  Rob 
Moore's  voice.  "  We  never  thought  to  count  noses 
until  we  reached  the  Cassidy  place,  and  then  we  found 
they  were  missing." 

Hastily  slipping  into  a  wrapper,  Mrs.  Sherman  ran 
down-stairs  with  a  candle  in  her  hand,  and  opened 
the  front  door.  Plump  little  Mrs.  Cassidy  was 
standing  there,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  dont  tell  me  that  they  are  not  here ! "  she 
cried.  '•  Didn't  you  see  them  when  you  were  locking 
up  the  house  after  we  left  .'*  Then  I  know  they're 
lost.  They  must  have  slipped  away  from  the  porch 
before  the  storm  came  up,  and  were  playing  outside 
somewhere  when  we  all  ran  inside  and  shut  the  door. 
Oh,  my  babies ! "  she  wailed.  "  If  they  were  out 
in  all  that  awful  storm  it  has  killed  them,  I  know. 
Oh,  why  did  I  do  such  a  foolish  thing  as  to  bring 
them  ?  They  were  too  little  to  come,  I  knew  that. 
But  they  begged  so  hard,  and  they  looked  so  cute  in 
those  little  ruffled  pillow-cases,  that  I  hadn't  the 
heart  to  refuse.     Oh,  what  shall  I  do.?" 

"They  must  be  somewhere  about  the  house,"  said 


200    THE  L17TLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Mrs.  Sherman,  with  such  decision  that  Mrs.  Cassidy 
was  comforted,  and  began  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  Come  in,  and  help  me  search.  Maybe  they 
slipped  up-stairs  when  the  other  children  were  play- 
ing, and  went  to  sleep  in  some  dark  comer.  Come 
on,  boys.  Light  up  the  house  from  attic  to  cellar, 
and  see  who  will  be  first  to  find  them.  It  will 
be  a  game  of  hunt  the  twins,  instead  of  hunt  the 
slipper." 

Then  up-stairs,  and  down-stairs,  and  in  my  lady's 
chamber,  went  a  strange  procession,  for  nearly  every 
one  was  still  draped  in  sheet  and  pillow-case.  Into 
closets,  behind  screens,  in  all  the  corners,  and  under 
all  the  beds  they  looked.  Keith,  remembering  the 
sad  story  of  Ginevra,  even  lifted  the  lid  of  every 
chest  and  trunk  in  the  linen  room.  Poor  little  Mrs. 
Cassidy  followed,  v/ringing  her  hands,  and  sobbing 
that  she  knew  that  they  had  been  shut  outside  in  the 
storm  and  the  night.  Suddenly,  when  they  had  been 
all  over  the  house  for  the  third  time,  she  caught  up 
a  lamp,  and  ran  out  in  the  dark,  like  some  poor  mad 
creature,  calling,  "  Oh,  Bethel !  Oh,  my  little  Ethel ! 
Don't  you  hear  your  mother .''  " 

By  this  time,  the  servants'  quarters  were  aroused, 
and  Mrs.  Sherman,  now  really  alarmed,  called  for 
Walker  and  Alec  to  bring  lanterns.     The  lawn  was 


A   PILLOW-CASE  PARTY.  20I 

a  wreck,  strewn  with  leaves  and  fallen  limbs  and 
pieces  of  broken  flower  urns  that  had  been  overturned 
by  the  wind.  The  searchers  stumbled  over  them  as 
they  waded  through  the  wet  grass,  looking  in  every 
nook  and  corner  where  it  was  possible  for  a  child 
to  have  strayed,  but  their  search  was  in  vain.  Never 
a  trace  did  they  find  of  the  lost  twins. 

"  Stay  in  the  house,  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman, 
as  she  caught  up  the  trail  of  her  wrapper,  and 
ran  out  to  follow  the  flickering  lanterns  and  Mrs. 
Cassidy's  frantic  cries.  "  It  might  give  you  your 
death  of  cold  to  expose  yourselves  so  soon  after  the 
measles." 

As  they  stood  in  the  door  watching  the  wavering 
lights,  Lloyd  exclaimed,  "The  puppies  are  gone,  too. 
I  wonder  where  they  can  be.  Maybe  they  were  left 
outside  in  the  storm  when  we  all  ran  indoors  in  such 
a  hurry.     Maybe  the  twins  were  playing  with  them." 

She  leaned  out  of  the  door,  peering  into  the  night. 
"  Heah,  Bob !  "  she  called,  snapping  her  fingers,  and 
whistling  the  shrill  signal  she  always  gave  when  she 
fed  them.  There  was  no  response  from  the  darkness 
outside,  and  she  turned  indoors  repeating  the  whistle, 
and  calling,  "  Heah,  Bob !  Heah,  puppy !  Come  to  yo' 
miss ! " 

In  answer  there  was  a  stir  under  the  low  Persian 


202     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

couch  in  the  library,  then  a  whine,  and  an  inquiring 
little  nose  was  thrust  through  the  heavy  knotted 
fringe  that  draped  the  lower  part  of  the  couch.  The 
next  instant  Lloyd's  Bob  came  sprawling  joyously 
toward  her,  his  pink  bow  cocked  rakishly  over  one 
ear.  Lloyd  dropped  on  her  knees,  and,  lifting  the 
fringe,  looked  under.  Then  she  gave  an  excited 
scream. 

"  Heah  they  are  !  "  she  called.  "  I've  found  them  ! 
Heah's  the  twins,  and  all  the  Bobs ! " 

"  They're  found  !  "  called  Joyce,  running  out  on  the 
porch  and  shouting  the  news  until  the  searchers 
farthest  from  the  house  heard,  and  ran  joyfully  back. 
"  They're  found  !  Lloyd's  found  them  !  " 

"  Who  ever  would  have  thought  of  squeezing  into 
such  a  place  as  that } "  said  Miss  Alhson,  as  she  came 
running  in,  out  of  breath.  "  I  started  to  look  under 
that  couch  twice,  but  it  was  so  low  I  thought  they 
couldn't  possibly  have  crawled  under.  Besides,  some 
one  was  sitting  on  it  all  evening,  and  they  surely 
would  have  been  seen  if  they  had  attempted  it." 

Rob  and  Malcolm  lifted  the  couch  and  set  it  aside, 
and  there,  curled  up  on  two  fat  sofa  cushions,  with 
the  puppies  beside  them,  lay  the  twins  fast  asleep. 
Great  beads  of  perspiration  stood  on  their  foreheads 
and  trickled  down  their  dimpled  faces.     Their  hair 


A   PILLOW-CASE  PARTY.  203 

curled  in  little  wet  rings  all  over  their  heads,  and 
their  chubby  arms  and  necks  were  red  with  prickly 
heat. 

"  It  is  a  wonder  that  they  weren't  smothered," 
cried  Mrs.  Cassidy,  taking  them  up  in  her  arms  and 
waking  them  with  her  tearful  kisses.  "  Oh,  why 
did  you  hide  away  from  mother,  precious .-' "  she 
asked,  reproachfully,  as  Bethel's  eyes  opened  with 
a  dazed  stare  at  the  crowd  of  faces  around  her.  She 
leaned  her  head  heavily  on  her  mother's  shoulder,  for 
she  was  not  fully  awake,  and  clung  around  her  neck 
with  both  arms.  Finally,  in  answer  to  the  chorus  of 
questions  that  came  from  all  sides,  she  roused  enough 
to  answer. 

"  It  lightened,  that's  why  we  hid.  Mammy  Chloe 
thed  if  you  go  get  in  a  dark  plathe  on  a  pile  of  feath- 
eths,  no  lightnin'  can  hurt  you.  Mammy  Chloe  always 
puth  uth  in  the  middle  of  her  feather-bed.  Tho  me 
and  thithter  took  a  thofa  pillow  and  got  under  the 
thofa  and  shut  our  eyeth  tight.  We  wath  hot," 
she  added,  gravely,  "  and  tho  wath  the  puppieth, 
but  the  lightnin'  couldn't  get  uth." 

The  laugh  that  went  up  from  the  amused  listeners 
aroused  both  the  twins  so  thoroughly  that  they  joined 
in  without  knowing  what  they  were  laughing  about. 
Then  Alec  and  Walker  carried  them  triumphantly  on 


204     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

their  shoulders  to  the  wagonette,  and  once  more  the 
party  started  homeward.  This  time  they  moved  off 
without  singing,  but  from  the  gate  came  back  three 
cheers  for  the  twins,  then  three  cheers  for  the  Little 
Colonel,  who  had  found  them.  Once  started  to 
cheering,  somebody  proposed  three  for  the  pillow- 
case party,  and  so  lustily  did  they  give  them,  that 
an  old  rooster,  awakening  from  sleep  as  the  wheels 
creaked  by,  thought  it  the  call  of  some  giant  chanti- 
cleer, and  promptly  crowed  an  answering  challenge, 
that  was  echoed  by  every  cock  in  the  Valley. 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

MORE    MEASLES. 

It  seemed  to  Betty  that  that  night  would  never  end. 
It  was  after  midnight  before  the  house  grew  quiet. 
Then,  whenever  she  closed  her  eyes,  she  could  see 
those  ghostly  figures  dancing  before  her  in  a  long, 
white  wavering  line.  After  awhile  she  gave  up  the 
attempt  to  sleep,  and  lay  with  her  eyes  wide  open, 
staring  into  the  darkness,  alert,  and  quivering  at  the 
slightest  sound. 

"I  don't  know  what  makes  me  so  nervous,"  she 
thought.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  should  fly,  and  the  dark 
seems  so  horrible,  as  if  it  was  full  of  creepy,  crawling 
things,  with  horns  and  claws." 

A  beetle  boomed  against  the  window,  striking  the 
pane  with  a  heavy  thud.  She  drew  the  sheet  over 
her  head  and  shivered.  "  Maybe  if  I'd  read  awhile  it 
would  make  me  sleepy,"  she  thought,  and,  slipping 
softly  out  of  bed,  she  groped  her  way  across  the  room 
in  the  dark  to  the  dressing-table.  Lighting  a  candle 
in  one  of  the  crystal  candlesticks  that  always  re^ 

205 


206     THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

minded  her  of  twisted  icicles,  she  put  it  on  a  stand 
beside  her  bed.  The  light  flickered  unsteadily,  but 
she  piled  the  pillows  up  behind  her  and  settled  herself 
to  read. 

It  was  a  new  book  that  she  was  greatly  interested 
in,  and  before  long  she  was  so  deep  in  the  story  that 
she  never  noticed  how  the  time  was  flying.  Instead 
of  bringing  sleep  to  her  eyes,  it  seemed  to  drive  it 
farther  and  farther  away.  The  candle  burned  lower 
and  lower,  but  she  never  noticed  it,  and  read  on  by 
its  unsteady  light  until  she  heard  the  hall  clock  strike 
four.  The  candle  was  flickering  in  its  socket,  and  the 
June  dawn  was  beginning  to  streak  the  sky.  Her 
eyes  smarted  and  burned,  and  ached  with  a  dull 
throbbing  pain. 

She  turned  over  and  went  to  sleep  then,  and  slept 
so  heavily  that  she  did  not  hear  the  noises  of  the 
awakening  household.  Once  Mrs.  Sherman  came 
to  the  door  and  peeped  in,  but,  finding  her  asleep, 
tiptoed  out  again.  It  was  nearly  noon  when  she 
awoke,  feeling  as  tired  as  when  she  went  to  bed. 
She  dressed  languidly  and  went  down-stairs,  but  was 
so  unlike  her  usually  sunny  self,  that  Mrs.  Sherman 
watched  her  anxiously.  Late  in  the  afternoon  she 
sent  for  Doctor  Fuller,  and  a  general  wail  went  up 
when  he  announced  what  was  the  matter  with  her 


MORE  MEASLES.  20^ 

"More  measles,  Mrs.  Sherman,"  he  said,  cheer 
fully.  "Well,  this  is  the  most  extraordinary  house 
party  I  ever  heard  of.  You  seem  to  be  exceedingly 
partial  to  this  one  line  of  amusements." 

"  It  isn't  fair  for  Betty  to  have  it,"  exclaimed 
Joyce,  "  when  she  wouldn't  go  to  the  camp,  and 
she's  had  it  before  !     It's  just  too  bad  !  " 

"We'll  all  have  to  be  mighty  good  to  her,"  said 
the  Little  Colonel,  "  for  she  was  so  sweet  about 
amusing  us.  We'll  take  turns  reading  to  her  and 
entertaining  her,  for  she  stayed  hours  with  us  in 
that  dark  room  when  she  could  have  been  outdoors 
enjoying  herself." 

"  That  is  probably  the  reason  she  is  laid  up  now," 
answered  the  doctor.  "  She  should  have  kept 
entirely  away  from  you." 

"  But  she  had  had  one  case,"  explained  Mrs. 
Sherman,  "and  we  never  dreamed  of  her  having 
another.  Poor  little  thing !  I  hope  this  will  be  light. 
She  had  a  hard  time  before,  so  we  must  make  a 
regular  frolic  of  this,  girls." 

"Well,  no,  madam,  at  least  not  for  several  days," 
said  the  doctor,  gravely,  "And  you  must  be 
extremely  careful  about  her  eyes.  They  seem  to 
be  badly  affected,  and  I  must  warn  you  that  they 
are  really  in  danger." 


208     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

They  told  Betty  that  afterward,  thinking  it  would 
stop  her  crying,  when  everything  else  failed  to  do  so, 
if  she  realised  how  necessary  it  was  for  her  not  to 
inflame  them  with  her  tears.  Usually  she  was  a 
sensible  little  body,  obedient  to  the  slightest  sugges- 
tion, but  now  she  lay  curled  up  in  a  disconsolate  little 
heap  in  bed,  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  have  the  measles ! "  she 
sobbed,  catching  her  breath  in  great  gasps.  "  Oh,  I 
don't  want  to  !  " 

"  My  dear  little  girl,  don't  let  it  distress  you  so  !  " 
begged  Mrs.  Sherman,  leaning  over  and  tenderly 
wiping  the  flushed  little  face. 

"  It  will  not  be  any  worse  for  you  than  for  the 
other  girls,  and  in  a  few  days  when  you  feel  better 
we  are  going  to  have  all  sorts  of  sport  out  of  it.  The 
girls  are  planning  now  what  they  shall  do  to  make 
up  to  you  for  this  disappointment.  They  feel  as  if 
they  are  to  blame  for  bringing  this  illness  upon  you 
by  their  disobedience,  and  you  cannot  imagine  how 
bad  it  makes  them  feel  to  have  you  take  it  to  heart 
so  bitterly." 

But  even  that  failed  to  stop  her  tears,  and  pres- 
dently  Mrs.  Sherman  went  out  into  the  hall,  where 
the  girls  were  waiting  for  her, 

"  There  is  some  reason  tor  all  this  distress  that  I 


MORE  MEASLES.  209 

am  unable  to  discover,"  she  said,  "Joyce,  maybe 
if  you  would  go  in  and  talk  to  her  you  might  find 
out." 

"  She  must  be  lots  worse  than  we  were,"  whis- 
pered Eugenia  to  Lloyd,  as  the  high,  shrill  voice,  so 
unlike  Betty's  usual  tones,  went  on  complainingly  in 
the  next  room. 

"  Hush  !  "  warned  Lloyd.  "  She's  telling  Joyce 
what  the  matter  is."  The  words  came  out  to  them 
distinctly.  She  was  speaking  with  a  nervous  quick- 
ness as  if  her  fever  had  almost  reached  delirium. 

"I  was  trying  to  dig  one  of  those  roads,"  wailed 
Betty,  in  a  high,  querulous  voice.  "  One  that  would 
last  for  ever,  don't  you  know  }  like  the  one  they  built 
for  Tusitala.  You  do  know,  don't  you } "  she  in- 
sisted, feverishly,  but  Joyce  had  to  acknowledge  that 
she  had  never  heard  of  it,  and  Betty  cried  again, 
because  she  felt  too  nervous  and  ill  to  explain. 

"  There,  there !  never  mind  !  "  said  Joyce,  sooth- 
ingly, thinking  that  Betty's  mind  was  wandering. 
"You  can  tell  me  all  about  it  when  you  get  well.'* 

"But  I  want  you  to  know  now!"  sobbed  Betty, 
with  all  the  unreasoning  impatience  of  a  sick  child. 
"  It  is  all  in  my  '  Good  times  book.'  I  cut  it  out  of 
an  old  Yotith's  Companion,  just  after  I  came,  and  the 
piece  is  inside  the  cover  of  that  little  white  and  gold 


2lO     THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

book  in  the  writing-desk.  Read  it,  won't  you  ?  Then 
you  will  understand." 

Joyce  took  the  slip  of  paper  to  the  window,  and 
glanced  rapidly  along  the  lines. 

"  No,  read  it  aloud  !  "  demanded  Betty,  fretfully. 
"  I  want  to  hear  it,  too.  It  is  such  a  sweet  story,  and 
I  read  it  over  every  day  to  help  me  remember." 

Mrs.  Sherman  and  the  girls,  sitting  outside  the 
door,  leaned  forward  to  listen,  as  Joyce  read  aloud 
the  newspaper  clipping  that  Betty  counted  among 
her  chief  treasures.     This  is  what  they  heard : 

"THE  ROAD   OF   THE   LOVING   HEART."* 

"  Remembering  the  great  love  of  his  highness,  Tusitala, 
and  his  loving  care  when  we  were  in  prison  and  sore  distressed, 
we  have  prepared  him  an  enduring  present,  this  road  which 
we  have  dug  for  ever." 

In  a  far-off  island,  thousands  of  miles  from  the  mainland, 
and  unconnected  with  the  world  by  cable,  stands  this  inscrip- 
tion. It  was  set  up  at  the  corner  of  a  new  road,  cut  through 
a  tropical  jungle,  and  bears  at  its  head  the  title  of  this 
article,  signed  by  the  names  of  ten  prominent  chiefs.  This 
is  the  story  of  the  road,  and  why  it  was  built : 

Some  years  ago  a  Scotchman,  broken  in  health  and  ex- 
pecting an  early  death,  sought  out  this  lonely  spot,  because 
here  the  climate  was  favourable  to  the  disease  from  which  he 
suffered.     He  settled  here  for  what  remained  to  him  of  life. 

*  Editorial  in  old  copy  of   YouWs  Companioti. 


MORE   MEASLES.  2\\ 

He  bought  an  estate  of  several  hundred  acres,  and  threw 
himself  earnestly  into  the  life  of  the  natives  of  the  island. 
There  was  great  division  among  the  many  chiefs,  and  pro- 
longed warfare.  Very  soon  the  chiefs  found  that  this  alien 
from  a  strange  land  was  their  best  friend.  They  began  com- 
ing to  him  for  counsel,  and  invited  him  to  their  most  important 
conferences. 

Though  he  did  not  bear  that  name,  he  became  a  missionary 
to  them.  He  was  their  hero,  and  they  loved  and  trusted  him 
because  he  tried  to  lead  them  aright.  They  had  never  had 
such  a  friend.  And  so  it  came  about  that  when  the  wars 
ceased,  the  chiefs  of  both  sides  called  him  by  a  name  of  their 
own,  and  made  him  one  of  their  own  number,  thus  conferring 
upon  him  the  highest  honour  within  their  power. 

But  many  of  the  chiefs  were  stiP  in  prison,  because  of 
their  political  views  or  deeds,  and  in  constant  danger  of  being 
put  to  death.  Their  sole  friend  was  the  Scotchman,  whom 
they  called  Tusitala.  He  visited  them,  comforted  them,  re- 
peated passages  from  the  history  of  Christ  to  them,  and 
busied  himself  incessantly  to  effect  their  release. 

At  length  he  obtained  their  fr^^-^'Ti,  and  then,  glowing 
with  gratitude,  in  despite  of  age,  decrepitude,  and  loss  of 
strength,  they  started  directly  for  the  estate  of  their  benefac- 
tor, and  there,  in  the  terrible  heat,  they  laboured  for  weeks  in 
building  him  a  road  which  they  knew  he  had  long  desired. 
Love  conquered  weakness,  and  they  did  not  cease  their  toil 
until  their  handiwork,  which  they  called  "  The  Road  of  the 
Loving  Heart,"  was  finished. 

Not  long  after  this  the  white  chief  suddenly  died.  At  the 
news  the  native  chiefs  flocked  from  all  parts  of  the  island  to 
the  house,  and  took  charge  of  the  body.  They  kissed  his 
hand  as  they  came  in,  and  all  night  sat  in  silence  about  him. 


212     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE   PARTY. 

One  of  them,  a  feeble  old  man,  threw  himself  on  his  knees 
beside  the  body  of  his  benefactor,  and  cried  out  betvveen  his 
sobs : 

"  I  am  only  a  poor  black  man,  and  ignorant.  Yet  I  am  not 
afraid  to  come  and  take  the  last  look  of  my  dead  friend's  face. 
Behold,  Tusitala  is  dead.  We  were  in  prison  and  he  cared 
for  us.  The  day  was  no  longer  than  his  kindness.  Who  is 
there  so  great  as  Tusitala  ?  Who  is  there  more  loving-com- 
passionate .-*    What  is  your  love  to  his  love  ?  " 

So  the  chiefs  took  their  friend  to  the  top  of  a  steep  moun- 
tain which  he  had  loved,  and  there  buried  him.  It  was  a 
mighty  task. 

The  civilised  world  mourns  the  great  author.  The  name  of 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson  is  lastingly  inwrought  into  English 
literature.  But  the  Samoans  mourn  in  his  loss  a  brother,  who 
outdid  all  others  in  loving-kindness,  and  so  long  as  the  island 
in  the  Pacific  exists,  Tusitala  will  be  gratefully  remembered, 
not  because  he  was  so  greatly  gifted,  but  because  he  was  a 
good  man. 

The  phrase,  "  The  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart,"  is  a  gospel 
in  itself.  "  The  day  is  not  longer  than  his  kindness  "  is  a  new 
beatitude.  Fame  dies,  and  honours  perish,  but  "  loving-kind- 
ness" is  immortaL 

Joyce  finished  and  looked  up  inquiringly.  She 
still  did  not  see  what  connection  the  road  could 
have  with  Betty's  distress  over  the  measles. 

"  Now,  don't  you  see  ?  "  asked  Betty,  tremulously. 
"  It  is  for  godmother  that  I  wanted  to  build  that 
road,  for  ever  since  I  came  she  has  been  like  Tusi- 
tala  to  me.     •  The  day  is  no  longer  than  her  kind 


MORE  MEASLES.  2\% 

ness,*  Oh,  Joyce,  nobody  knows  how  good  she  has 
been  to  me ! "  Then  between  her  sobs  she  told 
Joyce  again  the  story  of  the  gold  beads,  and  the 
many  things  her  godmother  had  done  to  make  her 
visit  a  continual  delight.  Mrs.  Sherman,  outside  the 
door,  felt  her  eyes  grow  dim  and  her  cheeks  wet, 
as  the  child  babbled  on,  reciting  a  long  list  of  little 
kindnesses  that  she  had  treasured  in  her  memory, 
and  that  her  godmother  had  either  done  uncon- 
sciously, or  had  forgotten  long  ago. 

It  showed  how  hungry  the  poor  little  heart  had 
been,  that  such  trifles  could  make  it  brim  over  with 
gratitude.  She  wiped  her  eyes  more  than  once  as 
the  voice  went  on. 

"  Of  course  I  couldn't  dig  a  road  like  those  chiefs 
did,  and  she  wouldn't  have  wanted  one,  even  if  I 
could ;  but  I  thought  maybe  I  could  leave  a  memory 
behind  me  when  this  beautiful  visit  is  done,  that  would 
be  like  a  smooth,  white  road.  You  know  remem- 
bering things  is  like  looking  back  over  a  road.  At 
least  it  always  seemed  that  way  to  me,  and  the  un- 
pleasant things  that  have  happened  are  like  the 
stones  and  rocks  that  we  stumble  over.  But  if 
there  haven't  been  any  unpleasant  things  to  remem- 
ber, then  we  can  look  back  and  see  it  stretched  out 
behind  us,  all  smooth  and  white  and  shining. 


214     ^-^^  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

"So  I  tried  from  the  very  first  of  my  visit  to  leave 
nothing  behind  me  for  her  memory  to  stumble  over; 
not  a  frown,  a  cross  word,  or  a  single  disobedience. 
That's  why  I  wouldn't  go  with  you  that  day  to  have 
my  fortune  told.  It  would  have  spoiled  my  '  Road 
of  the  Loving  Heart,'  and  put  a  stone  in  it  that  would 
always  have  made  godmother  sorry  when  she  thought 
of  my  visit. 

"That's  why  I  came  back  from  the  picnic  at  the 
old  mill  and  missed  the  charades.  It  would  have 
spoiled  the  road  if  I  hadn't  kept  my  promise,  —  kept 
it  to  the  utmost.  And  now  after  all  the  days  I  have 
tried  so  hard,  it  is  going  to  be  spoiled  because  I've 
gone  and  got  sick.  I'll  be  so  much  care  and  trou- 
ble that  the  Memory  Road  will  be  all  spoiled  —  my 
*  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart ! '  " 

Betty  was  so  exhausted  by  this  time,  that  she  was 
not  crying  any  longer  ;  but  now  and  then  a  long  sob 
shook  the  little  body  from  head  to  foot.  Joyce,  not 
knowing  what  to  say,  slipped  away  and  went  out  into 
the  hall. 

"  So  that  is  the  cause  of  the  child's  distress," 
whispered  Mrs.  Sherman.  "  Bless  her  little  heart, 
now  I've  found  out  what  is  the  matter,  maybe  I  can 
succeed  in  quieting  her." 

What  she  said  to  comfort  her  the  girls  never  knew, 


MORE  MEASLES.  21$ 

for  the  door  closed  behind  her  and  they  stole  away  to 
their  own  rooms. 

But  presently  they  heard  the  "  White  Seal's  Lul- 
laby" sung  softly  within.  She  had  taken  Betty  in 
her  arms,  and  was  rocking  her  as  tenderly  as  she 
had  rocked  the  Little  Colonel,  while  she  sang,  "  Oh, 
hush  thee,  my  baby,  the  night  is  behind  us." 

When  Betty  fell  asleep  it  was  in  the  embrace  of 
something  far  more  comforting  and  restful  than  the 
"arms  of  the  slow-swinging  seas."  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  since  she  could  remember,  she  felt 
what  it  was  to  be  folded  fast  in  the  mother-love  that 
she  had  always  longed  for. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A   LONG    NIGHT. 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  awful !  "  exclaimed  the  Little  Colonel, 
in  a  shocked  tone,  and  with  such  a  look  of  horror  in 
her  face  that  Eugenia  leaned  forward  to  listen.  Lloyd 
was  speaking  to  Joyce  on  the  porch  just  outside  of 
the  library  window,  where  Eugenia  sat  reading. 

"What  is  awful.''"  asked  Eugenia,  her  curiosity 
aroused  by  the  expression  of  the  girls'  faces. 

"  Sh  !  "  whispered  Lloyd,  warningly,  as  she  tiptoed 
to  the  window  and  sat  down  on  the  broad,  low  sill. 
"  I  am  afraid  Betty  will  hear  us  talking  about  her. 
The  doctor  has  just  been  here,  and  he  says  —  oh, 
Eugenia,  it  is  too  terrible  to  tell  —  he  says  he  is 
afraid  that  Betty  is  going  blind  V 

The  tears  stood  in  the  Little  Colonel's  eyes.  "  You 
know  that  people  do  lose  their  sight  sometimes  when 
they  have  the  measles,  and  her  eyes  have  been  the 
worst  part  of  it  from  the  start.  The  night  before 
the  measles  broke  out  on  her  she  read  till  nearly 
morning  by  candle-light,  because  she  was  restless  and 

216 


Ji  LONG  NIGHT.  217 

couldn't  go  to  sleep.     Of  course  that  made  them 
worse." 

** Blind!"  echoed  Eugenia,  closing  her  own  eyes  a 
moment  on  the  bright  summer  world  without,  and 
feeling  a  chill  run  over  her,  as  she  realised  what 
black  dungeon  walls  those  five  letters  could  build 
around  a  Hfe. 

"  Was  the  doctor  sure,  Lloyd  ?  Can't  something 
be  done  .^ " 

"  Of  co'se  he  wasn't  snak.  I  heard  him  tell 
mothah  that  he  wouldn't  give  up  fighting  for  her 
sight  as  long  as  there  was  a  shadow  of  a  chance  to 
^ve  it,  but  he  advised  her  to  send  for  an  oculist 
to  consult  with  him,  and  she's  just  now  telephoned  to 
the  city  for  one." 

"  Does  Betty  know  it  ?  " 

"  She  knows  that  there  is  dangah  of  her  losing  her 
sight,  and  is  tryin'  so  hahd  to  be  quiet  and  patient." 

Eugenia  laid  down  her  book,  feeling  faint  and  sick. 
For  a  long  time  after  Lloyd  and  Joyce  had  left  her 
she  sat  idly  playing  with  the  curtain  cord,  thinking 
over  what  they  had  told  her.  Presently  she  tiptoed 
up-stairs  to  her  room.  She  stood  a  moment  outside 
Betty's  door,  listening,  for  Betty  was  talking  to  Eliot, 
and  she  wanted  to  hear  what  a  person  with  such  a 
prospect  staring  her  in  the  face  would  have  to  say. 


21 8     THE  LITTLE    COLONEUS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

"There  are  lots  of  beautiful  things  in  the  world  to 
think  about,  Eliot,"  Betty  was  saying  bravely,  in  her 
sweet,  cheery  little  voice. 

"  'Specially  when  you've  lived  in  the  country  and 
have  all  the  big  outdoors  to  remember.  Now  while 
I'm  so  hot  I  love  to  count  up  all  the  cool  things  I  can 
remember.  I  like  to  pretend  that  I'm  down  in  the 
orchard,  way  early  in  the  morning,  with  a  fresh  breeze 
blowing  through  the  apple-blossoms  and  the  dewdrops 
shining  on  every  blade  of  grass.  Oh,  it  smells  so 
fresh  and  sweet  and  delicious !  Now  I'm  in  the 
corn-fields  and  the  tall  green  corn  is  rustling  in  the 
wind,  and  the  morning-glories  climb  up  every  stalk 
and  shake  the  dew  out  of  their  purple  bells.  Now  I 
can  hear  the  bucket  splash  down  in  the  well,  and 
come  up  cold  and  dripping.  And  now  I'm  dabbling 
my  fingers  in  the  spring  down  in  the  old  stone  spring 
house,  and  standing  on  the  cold,  wet  rocks  in  my 
bare  feet.  And  there's  the  winter  mornings,  Eliot, 
when  the  trees  are  covered  with  sleet  till  every  twig 
twinkles  like  a  diamond.  And  the  frost  on  the  win- 
dow-panes —  oh,  if  I  could  only  lay  my  face  against 
the  cold  glass  now,  how  good  it  would  feel !  " 

Eugenia  could  bear  no  more.  She  turned  away 
from  the  door,  and,  meeting  Mrs.  Sherman  on  the 
threshold  of  her  room,  threw  herself  into  her  arms, 


A   LONG  NIGHT.  219 

sobbing :  "  Oh,  Cousin  Elizabeth,  I  can't  stand  it. 
If  Betty  goes  blind  it  will  be  all  my  fault !  She 
never  would  have  had  the  measles  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  me.  But  I  would  go,  and  I  made  the  others  go, 
too.  And  when  Betty  refused  I  was  so  mean  and 
hateful  to  her !  Oh,  Cousin  EHzabeth,  what  can  I 
do?" 

Mrs.  Sherman  drew  Eugenia  into  her  room  and 
comforted  her  the  best  she  could,  but  her  own  heart 
was  heavy.  She  knew  that  Doctor  Fuller  had  little 
hope  of  saving  Betty's  sight. 

That  knowledge  threw  a  shadow  over  the  entire 
household.  The  great  oculist  came,  and  gravely 
shook  his  head  over  the  case.  "  There  is  one  chance 
that  she  may  see  again,"  he  said,  "one  in  a  hundred. 
That  is  all.  Now  if  she  could  have  a  trained  nurse 
who  could  watch  her  eyes  constantly  and  follow  direc- 
tions to  the  letter  —  " 

**  She  shall  have  anything ! "  interrupted  Mrs. 
Sherman.  "  Everything  that  would  help  in  the 
smallest  degree," 

"  And  it  would  be  best  not  to  let  the  child  know," 
he  continued.  "  It  would  probably  excite  her,  and, 
above  all  things,  that  must  be  guarded  against." 

But  Betty,  lying  with  bandaged  eyes,  caught  a 
whisper,  felt  the  suppressed  sympathy  in  the  atmos* 


220     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

phere,  as  one  feels  the  tingle  of  electricity  in  the  air 
before  a  storm,  and  began  to  guess  the  truth.  When 
the  trained  nurse  came  and  gave  such  careful  atten- 
tion to  the  treatment  of  her  eyes,  she  was  sure  of  it. 
But  she  said  nothing  of  her  suspicions,  and  they 
thought  she  had  none. 

One  day  Lloyd  came  into  the  room  with  a  news- 
paper in  her  hand.  Eugenia  and  Joyce  followed 
softly,  Lloyd  tried  to  speak  calmly,  but  there  was 
a  suppressed  excitement  in  her  voice  as  she  ex- 
claimed, "  Betty,  I've  got  the  loveliest  thing  to  show 
you.  Mothah  said  I  might  be  the  one  to  tell,  'cause 
I'm  so  glad  and  proud,  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  You 
know  that  little  poem  that  you  gave  to  mothah,  called 
*  Night .'' '  Well,  she  sent  it  away  to  an  editah,  and.  he 
has  published  it  in  this  papah  with  yo'  name  at  the 
bottom,  —  Elizabeth  Lloyd  Lewis  !  Now  aren't  you 
stuck  up  ?  We  are  all  so  proud  of  you  we  don't  know 
what  to  do." 

Betty  stretched  out  one  trembling  hand  for  the 
paper,  and  involuntarily  the  other  went  up  to  her  eyes 
to  push  away  the  bandages.  "  Let  me  see  it,"  she 
cried,  eagerly,  but  the  thrill  of  gladness  in  her  voice 
died  in  a  pitiful  little  note  of  despair  as  she  whispered, 
brokenly,  "  Oh,  I  forgot !  I  can't  see  !  " 

But  the  next  instant  her  hand  was  groping  for  the 


A  LONG  NIGHT,  321 

paper  again.     "  Where  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,     "  Let  me 

feel  it,  anyway.  Oh,  to  think  that  something  I  have 
written  has  really  been  published !  Where  is  it,  Lloyd  ? 
Put  my  hand  on  the  spot,  please.  You  don't  know 
how  glad  I  am,  how  glad  and  thankful.  I  have  always 
wanted  to  write  —  always  hoped  that  some  day,  after 
I  had  tried  years  and  years,  I  might  be  able  to 
do  something  good  enough  to  be  published,  but  to 
have  it  come  now  while  I  am  a  little  girl,"— -her 
voice  sunk  almost  to  a  whisper,  — "  oh,  Lloyd  you 
don't  know  how  wonderful  it  seems  to  me ! " 

She  was  trembling  so  that  the  paper  shook  in  her 
hands.  "  Where  is  it } "  she  asked  again,  feeling 
blindly  over  the  page. 

"There,"  said  Lloyd,  placing  the  little  groping 
finger  on  a  spot  at  the  head  of  a  column.  "There 
is  the  word  NIGHT,  and  heah,"  guiding  her  fingers 
down  the  page,  "  heah  is  yo*  name.  If  I  were  you 
I'd  be  so  stuck  up  I  wouldn't  speak  to  common  people 
that  can't  have  verses  published  in  the  papah." 

«  But  —  oh  —  if  you  couldn't  —  see  —  it !  "  Betty's 
words  came  in  choking  little  gasps.  She  paused  a 
moment  and  turned  her  face  away,  swallowing  hard. 
Then  she  went  on  more  calmly. 

"  Wasn't  it  queer  that  I  should  have  written  about 
N^ight,  just  before  mine  begun .?     That  the  only  thing 


222     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

I  shall  ever  have  published  should  be  called  that  ? 
My  long,  long  night !  But  there  are  no  stars  in  this 
night.  Lloyd,  it's  awful  to  think  you'll  always  be  in 
the  dark ! " 

Lloyd  turned  with  a  startled  glance  to  the  other 
girls. 

"I  —  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  stam- 
mered. 

"Yes,  you  do,"  insisted  Betty.  "What  you've 
been  trying  to  keep  from  me,  all  of  you,  that  I 
am  always  going  to  be  —  blind/  " 

She  ended  the  sentence  with  a  little  shiver,  and, 
choking  with  sobs,  turned  her  face  to  the  wall.  At 
a  sign  from  the  nurse,  Lloyd  slipped  away  and  ran  to 
her  mother's  room.  She  found  Eugenia  already  there, 
with  her  head  buried  in  Mrs.  Sherman's  lap. 

"  Oh,  it  almost  broke  my  heart !  "  she  was  saying. 
"To  see  those  poor  little  fingers  groping  over  the 
paper  feeling  for  the  poem  that  she  couldn't  see.  And 
she  said  so  pitifully,  *  My  long,  long  night !  There 
are  no  stars  in  this  night ! '  And  to  think  it's  all  my 
fault!  Oh,  it  is  just  killing  me!  I  could  hardly 
sleep  last  night  for  thinking  of  it,  and  when  I  did 
I  had  a  dreadful  nightmare. 

"  I  dreamed  that  I  was  in  a  great  market-place 
going  from  stall  to  stall,  trying  to  buy  something, 


^  LONG  NIGHT.  223 

but  I  had  forgotten  what  it  was  I  wanted.  A  horrid 
grinning  Httle  dwarf,  with  great  fangs  in  his  jaw,  like 
a  boar's  tusks,  followed  me  everywhere,  carrying  my 
purse.  I'd  stand  awhile  in  front  of  every  stall,  try- 
ing to  remember  what  it  was  I'd  come  for,  and  when 
I'd  thought  awhile  I'd  cry  out,  *  Now  I  know  what  I 
want,  give  me  my  own  way.  It  is  my  own  way  that 
I  want.*  Everybody  in  the  market  would  stop  to 
listen,  and  the  man  behind  the  counter  would  say, 

*  Not  unless  you  can  pay  the  price.' 

"  Then  that  horrible  dwarf  would  step  up,  grinning, 
his  old  tusks  showing  all  hideous  and  yellow,  and  say, 

*  Here  is  the  price  !  Give  her  her  own  way.  Here 
is  the  price.  Let  the  whole  world  see  the  price  that 
she  has  paid  for  her  own  way,  - —  Betty's  e3''es  is  the 
price.  Betty's  beautiful  brown  eyes  ! '  And  then  he 
would  hold  them  out  in  his  ugly  knotted  hand,  and 
they  would  look  up  at  me  so  reproachfully,  that  I 
would  scream  and  tear  my  hair.  I  don't  know  how 
many  times  I  had  to  go  through  that  scene  in  my 
sleep,  but  when  I  got  up  this  morning  I  was  as  tired 
as  if  I  had  been  running  all  night,  and  every  place  I 
turn  I  can  see  that  hideous  old  hand  thrust  out  at 
me  with  Betty's  brown  eyes  in  it.  I'll  never  insist 
on  having  my  own  way  again." 

There  was  no  time  for  Mrs.  Sherman  to  comfort 


224     ^"^^  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Eugenia  then,  for  Betty  needed  her,  and  in  answet 
to  the  nurse's  summons  she  hurried  away  to  soothe 
the  child,  sorely  distressed  by  this  turn  that  the 
house  party  had  taken. 

"Go  out  on  the  ponies  for  awhile,"  she  said,  as  she 
left  the  three  girls  sitting  disconsolately  on  the  floor. 
"  Go  out  and  get  some  of  this  summer  sunshine  into 
your  faces  and  voices  so  that  you  can  bring  it  back 
to  Elizabeth.  She  will  need  all  that  you  can  bring 
her,  poor  child  ;  so,  instead  of  brooding  over  your 
own  feelings,  think  of  something  that  you  can  do  to 
cheer  her  up." 

In  a  little  while  there  was  a  clatter  of  ponies'  hoofs 
down  the  avenue,  and  Mrs.  Sherman,  sitting  by  the 
window  in  Betty's  room,  waved  her  hand  to  Eugenia, 
Joyce,  and  the  Little  Colonel  as  they  rode  away. 
They  were  gone  all  morning,  and  when  they  came 
back  the  June  sunshine  had  done  its  work.  Their 
faces  were  bright  and  smiling,  and  they  giggled  con- 
tinuously as  they  bumped  into  each  other,  running 
up  the  stairs. 

Betty's  door  was  open,  and  to  their  surprise  they 
heard  a  little  laugh  as  they  stopped  to  peep  in.  She 
was  lying  back  among  the  pillows  with  bandaged 
eyes,  but  there  was  a  smile  on  her  lips. 

"Come  in,  girls,"  she  cried.     "Godmother  and  I 


A  LONG  NIGHT.  225 

are  making  alphabet  rhymes.  We  started  at  A,  and 
have  been  taking  turns.  She  has  just  made  a  good 
one :  *  P  is  a  pie-man,  portly  and  proud,  pugnaciously 
prattling '  —  What's  the  rest  of  it,  godmother  ?  You 
tell  them.     I  have  forgotten." 

But  Mrs.  Sherman's  rhyme  was  broken  short  in 
an  astonished  exclamation,  as  her  glance  fell  on  the 
Little  Colonel. 

"  Why,  Lloyd  Sherman  !  "  she  cried.  "  What  have 
you  been  doing .''  Your  dress  is  torn  to  tatters,  and 
you  are  so  dirty  and  dusty  that  I  can  scarcely  believe 
that  you  are  my  child ! " 

The  Little  Colonel  screwed  herself  around  to 
look  at  the  back  of  her  dress-skirt,  which  was  torn 
into  a  dozen  ragged  strips,  and  fluttered  behind  her 
in  long  fringes.  There  was  a  three-cornered  tear 
on  the  shoulder  and  a  hole  in  the  elbow  of  her 
sleeve. 

"  Reckon  I  must  have  toah  it  gettin'  through  a  bob- 
wiah  fence,"  she  answered,  cheerfully.  "  But,  look  at 
Eugenia!  She's  as  much  of  a  sight  as  I  am,  with 
her  hair  hangin'  all  in  her  eyes,  like  an  ole  witch,  and 
that  scratch  across  her  face,  and  her  stockings  full  of 
burrs." 

"Joyce  is  nearly  as  bad!"  cried  Eugenia;  "both 
hair  ribbons  gone,  the  heel  lost  off  one  shoe,  grass 


226     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Stains  on  her  dress,  and  her  face  red  as  a  turkey 
gobbler's,  from  running  so  fast." 

"  Where  have  you  all  been,  and  what  have  you 
been  doing  ? "  demanded  Mrs.  Sherman  so  emphat- 
ically that,  with  much  giggling  and  exclaiming,  they 
all  began  to  talk  at  once. 

"We  met  the  boys  ovah  on  the  pike,"  began  the 
Little  Colonel,  "  Malcolm  and  Keith  and  Robby, 
and  we  were  all  ridin'  along  as  polite  as  anything, 
when  the  boys  began  to  tell  about  the  good  times 
they  used  to  have  play  in'  Indian." 

"  But  first,"  interrupted  Joyce,  "  Keith  told  about 
the  time  they  tied  his  little  cousin  Ginger  to  a  tree 
in  the  woods,  and  left  her  there  until  it  was  so  dark 
she  nearly  had  a  spasm." 

"  Yes,"  said  Eugenia,  "  and  I  said  what  a  pity  it 
was  that  we  were  too  old  to  play  Indian  ;  that  I  had 
had  the  blues  all  day,  and  felt  that  nothing  would  do 
me  so  much  good  as  to  get  out  some  place  where 
nobody  could  hear,  and  yell  and  carry  on  at  the  top 
of  my  voice.  And  Malcolm  said  that,  just  for  once, 
supposing  we'd  pretend  like  we  were  ten  years  old, 
instead  of  thirteen,  and  pitch  in  and  have  a  good  rip- 
ping, tearing  old  game  of  Indian.  It  was  away  up 
the  pike,  where  there  was  nothing  in  sight  but  a  few 
farmhouses,  scattered  along  the  road,   and  it  didn't 


A   LONG  NIGHT.  227 

seem  as  if  it  would  make  any  difference,  so  we  said 
we  would." 

"First  thing  I  knew,"  broke  in  Joyce,  "Robby 
Moore  gave  an  outlandish  war-whoop  right  in  my  ear, 
that  nearly  deafened  me,  and  grabbed  me  by  my  hair, 
yelling  he  was  going  to  tomahawk  me.  And  I  saw 
Eugenia  go  sailing  up  the  road  as  fast  as  her  horse 
could  carry  her,  with  Keith  after  her,  swinging  on  to 
those  two  long  black  braids  of  hers.  You  see  Lloyd 
had  the  advantage  of  us  with  her  short  hair.  They 
couldn't  scalp  her  so  easily ;  but  Malcolm  chased 
after  her  like  all  possessed." 

"  Maybe  you   think   it   wasn't   excitin"*    said   the 
Little  Colonel.      "I  felt  like  a  real  suah  'nuff  In 
dian  was  aftah  me,  and  I  screeched  bloody  murdah 
till  you   could   have   heard   me   almost  to   the  old 
mill." 

"  I  should  say  she  did  !  "  giggled  Joyce.  "  The 
way  Tarbaby  got  over  the  ground  was  something  to 
remember,  and  the  way  Lloyd  yelled  would  have 
made  a  wild  coyote  take  to  its  heels.  Just  as  we 
got  in  sight  of  the  toll-gate,  we  met  one  of  those 
big  three-story  huckster-wagons,  full  of  chickens  and 
ducks  and  things.  You  know  how  funny  they  al- 
ways look,  with  so  many  bills  and  legs  and  tails  stick- 
ing through  the  slats.     Well,  the  horses  shied  as  we 


225     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

went  dashing  up  to  them,  and  first  thing  we  knew 
they  had  backed  that  wagon  into  a  ditch  at  the  side 
of  the  road,  and  one  of  the  coops  went  off  the  top 
ke-bang !  into  the  ditch." 

"You  never  saw  anything  madder  than  that  old 
huckster,"  interrupted  Eugenia.  "  He  jumped  down 
off  the  wagon,  and  came  up  to  us  with  a  big  whip 
in  his  hands,  scolding,  as  cross  as  two  sticks.  But 
he  couldn't  stay  angry  with  those  boys.  They  were 
so  polite,  and  apologised,  and  said  if  they  had  done 
anything  wrong  they  wanted  to  make  it  right.  They 
offered  to  pay  for  the  coop  if  it  was  broken,  and  got 
off  their  horses  to  help  him  lift  it  on  to  the  wagon 
again.  But  when  they  took  hold  of  it  three  chickens 
flopped  out  of  the  broken  side,  and  went  squawking 
across  the  fields." 

"It  was  so  funny! "  laughed  Lloyd.  " There  they 
went,  legs  stretching,  wings  flapping,  lickety  split ! 
It  made  me  think  of  Papa  Jack's  story  about  the 
old  witch :  *  she  ran,  she  flew,  she  ran,  she  flew ! ' 
We  all  told  the  old  huckstah  we'd  help  him  catch 
them  and  that's  why  we  got  so  dirty." 

"  Oh,  such  a  chase !  "  added  Joyce.  "  Through 
barb-wire  fences,  over  ploughed  fields  and  into  black- 
berry briers.  That  is  how  we  got  so  scratched  and 
torn.     But    we   caught   the   chickens,  and   brought 


#  f 

9^ 

f  I 

( 

"  'but    we    caught    the    chickens    and    brought 
them   back.'  " 


A  LONG  NIGHT.  229 

them    back,    with   feathers    flying,    and   with    them 
squawking  at  the  tops  of  their  voices." 

"  What  fun  it  must  have  been  !  "  said  Betty.  "  I 
wish  I  could  have  seen  you  then,  and  I  wish  I  could 
see  you  now.     You  must  be  wrecks." 

"They  are  not  pretty  sights,  I  can  assure  you," 
said  Mrs.  Sherman,  laughing  in  spite  of  her  disap- 
proval. "  I'm  astonished  that  you  would  make  such 
a  commotion  on  a  public  road,  and  I'm  afraid  I  would 
have  to  lecture  you  a  little  if  I  were  not  sure  that 
you  would  never  do  it  again.  Run  along  now  and 
make  yourselves  presentable  for  lunch,  and  first 
thing  you  do,  look  in  your  mirrors.  You'll  not  be 
charmed,  I'm  sure." 

"  One  little,  two  little,  three  little  Indians,"  sang 
Betty ,  as  they  skipped  out  of  the  room,  hand  in 
hand,  and  Joyce  whispered  in  the  hall,  "  How  can 
she  be  so  cheerful }  She's  the  bravest  little  thing 
I  ever  saw." 

They  learned  the  secret  of  her  cheerfulness  next 
time  they  went  to  her  room.  She  turned  to  them 
with  a  wistful  little  smile,  sadder,  somehow,  than 
tears,  saying,  •'  Godmother  has  helped  me  to  find 
some  stars  in  my  long  night,  girls.  She  told  me 
about  Milton.  I  didn't  know  before  that  he  was 
blind   when   he  wrote   'Paradise   Lost.'      And   she 


230     THE  LITTLE   CO  LONE  US  HOUSE  PARTY. 

told  me  about  Fanny  Crosby,  too,  the  blind  hymn" 
writer,  whose  hymns  have  helped  so  many  people 
and  are  sung  all  over  the  world. 

"I've  made  up  my  mind  that  if  the  doctor  can't 
save  my  sight  I'll  do  as  they  did.  It's  like  dropping 
the  curtains  on  the  outside  darkness  when  night 
comes  on,  godmother  says,  and  turning  up  the  lights 
and  stirring  the  fire,  and  making  it  so  bright  and 
cheerful  and  sweet  inside  that  you  forget  how  dark  it 
is  outdoors. 

"And  maybe  if  I  can  do  that,  and  think  all  the 
time  about  the  beautiful  things  I  have  seen  and  read, 
I  can  make  up  stories  some  day  as  they  did  their 
poems  and  hymns.  I  will  write  fairy  tales  that  the 
children  will  love  to  listen  to  and  ask  to  hear,  over 
and  over  again.  I  know  I  can  do  it,  for  the  ones  I've 
made  for  Davy  he  likes  best  of  all.  I'd  never  hope 
to  write  stories  that  grov/n  people  v/ould  be  interested 
in,  and  love  as  they  love  Tusitala's,  but  just  to  be  the 
children's  'tale-teller,'  and  to  write  stories  that  they 
would  listen  to  long  after  I  am  dead  and  gone  —  why 
that  would  be  worth  living  for,  even  if  I  never  saw 
the  light  again.     And  godmother  thinks  I  can  do  it." 

"I  know  you  can,"  assented  Lloyd,  warmly,  "and 
we'll  copy  them  for  you,  and  send  them  away  to  be 
put  into  books." 


^  LONG  NIGHT.  23I 

"Joyce,"  asked  Betty,  "would  you  mind  reading 
that  little  newspaper  clipping  to  the  girls  about  the 
Road  of  the  Loving  Heart  ?  I  want  them  to  know 
about  it,  too." 

She  did  not  know  that  they  had  already  heard  itj^ 
listening  outside  her  door  with  heavy  hearts  and 
troubled  faces,  and  when  Joyce  had  found  it 
and  again  read  it  aloud,  she  told  them  the  story 
of  the  memory  road  that  she  was  trying  to  leave 
behind  her. 

"It  will  be  harder  to  do  now  that  I  am  blind,'* 
she  said,  at  the  last,  "  for  I  can't  help  being  a  care 
and  a  trouble  to  everybody,  everywhere  I  go  now. 
But  godmother  says  people  won't  mind  that  much  if 
I'll  only  be  pleasant  and  cheerful  about  my  misfor- 
tune, and  not  let  it  cast  its  shadow  on  other  lives  any 
more  than  I  can  help.  I  haven't  said  anything  about 
it  yet  to  her,  but  if  there  is  enough  money  in  the 
bank  that  papa  left  to  educate  me  with,  I  want  to  go 
to  a  school  for  the  blind  and  learn  to  read  those 
queer  raised  letters,  and  to  do  everything  for  myself. 
Then  I'll  not  be  such  a  trouble  to  everybody." 

"But  how  can  you  be  cheerful  and  pleasant,  and 
go  on  that  way  for  a  whole  lifetime  1 "  asked  Eu- 
genia, with  a  shiver.  "  You  may  live  to  be  an  old, 
old  woman." 


232      THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

"  Oh,  Eugenia ! "  exclaimed  Joyce,  in  a  shocked 
undertone.  "  Don't  remind  the  poor  little  thing  of 
of  that." 

"  I  know,"  answered  Betty,  her  smile  all  gone  now, 
and  her  lip  trembling.  "  Sometimes  when  I  think  of 
I.  that,  it's  so  awful  that  I  can  hardly  stand  it.  But  it 
will  be  only  a  day  at  a  time,  and  if  I  can  manage  to 
get  through  them  one  by  one,  and  keep  my  courage 
up  to  the  end,  it  will  be  all  right  afterward,  you 
know,  for  there  is  no  night  there.  The  nurse  read 
me  that  yesterday  out  of  Revelation.  That's  the 
only  thing  that  comforts  me  sometimes."  She  re- 
peated it  in  a  soft  whisper,  turning  her  face  away,' 
**  There'll  be  ito  night  there  !  " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"THE    ROAD    OF   THE   LOVING   HEART." 

Joyce  sat  with  her  elbows  on  her  dressing-table 
and  her  chin  in  her  hands,  gazing  thoughtfully  into 
the  mirror.  She  had  just  come  from  Betty's  room, 
and  the  child's  patient  cheerfulness,  in  the  face  of 
the  dark  future  that  threatened  her,  had  brought  the 
tears  to  her  eyes. 

"  Dear  little  Betty !  "  she  said  to  her  reflection  in 
the  mirror.  "What  a  beautiful  memory  of  her  we 
will  all  carry  away  with  us !  There  isn't  a  single 
thing  I  would  want  to  forget  about  her.  She  will  be 
leaving  each  one  of  us  a  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart 
to  look  back  on.  And  it's  like  the  work  of  the 
old  Samoan  chiefs,  too !  Built  to  I'ast  for  ever.  It 
frightens  me  to  think  that  what  I've  done  is  going  to 
be  remembered  for  ever  and  ever  and  ever ;  but  that 
is  what  Mrs.  Sherman  said :  *  The  memories  we  dig 
into  our  souls  will  go  with  ns  into  eternity! 

"  If  I  should  die  right  now,  what  a  lot  of  things  I 
would  want  people  to  forget  about  me;  especially 

233 


234     ^-^^  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

the  family.  I've  been  so  mean  to  Jack  and  so  self, 
ish  with  Mary.  I'm  going  to  begin  the  minute  I  get 
back  to  the  little  brown  house  to  start  to  make  a 
memory  road  for  everybody,  that  I  need  not  be 
ashamed  of  when  I  lie  a-dying." 

Then  she  gave  a  shamefaced  little  glance  at  her 
reflection  in  the  mirror.  '*  No,  that's  putting  it  off 
too  long.  That  is  one  of  my  worst  habits.  I'll  begin 
this  minute  and  write  that  letter  to  mamma  that  I 
have  been  putting  off  all  week.  And  I'll  take  time 
to  make  it  interesting,  and  write  all  the  little  things 
that  I  know  she  wants  to  hear  about.  And  I'll  not 
be  so  snappish  with  Eugenia,  and  make  her  feel  that 
she  was  most  to  blame  about  our  getting  the  measles. 
I've  taken  a  mean  sort  of  pleasure  in  doing  it  before. 
Poor  thing,  she  seems  to  feel  dreadfully  bad  about  it, 
and  there's  no  use  my  adding  anything  to  her  dis- 
tress." And  Joyce,  jumping  up,  took  out  her  writing 
materials,  and  sat  down  at  her  desk. 

At  the  same  moment  the  Little  Colonel  was  hang- 
ing around  the  door  waiting  for  Mrs.  Sherman,  who 
sat  in  the  room,  until  Betty  fell  asleep.  There  was 
a  lingering  tenderness  in  Lloyd's  kiss  as  she  threw 
her  arms  around  her  mother's  neck,  and,  though  no 
word  was  spoken,  Mrs.  Sherman  knew  that  Lloyd 
had  taken  Betty's  little  sermon  to  heart. 


*'THE  ROAD   OF  THE  LOVING  HEART.''     23$ 

"  Where  is  Eugenia,  dear  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  She  has  gone  to  her  room,  I  think." 

"I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  her.  She  has 
seemed  so  miserable  and  unhappy,  since  all  this 
happened.  The  poor  child  has  nearly  made  herself 
ill  worrying  about  it." 

Across  the  hall  Eugenia  had  thrown  herself  down 
on  her  bed,  and  was  staring  out  of  the  windows. 
She  saw  nothing  of  the  summer  skies  outside,  or  any 
of  all  that  outdoor  brightness.  Her  gaze  was  turned 
inward  on  herself. 

"  I  wish  I  could  begin  at  the  beginning  and  do  it 
all  over,- — all  my  life!"  she  thought.  "Somehow 
I've  always  thought  it  rather  smart  to  say  and  do 
exactly  as  I  pleased ;  to  be  the  ringleader  in  all  the 
mischief  and  make  the  teachers  dread  me,  and  have 
the  girls  afraid  of  me.  But  Betty  makes  you  look  at 
things  so  differently.  I'd  give  anything  I've  got  to 
have  people  remember  me  as  they  will  her.  What 
must  papa  think  of  me .''  I'm  all  he's  got,  and  he  is 
so  good  to  me !  Oh,  it  would  have  been  better  if 
I  had  never  been  bom !  Every  day  I've  lived  I've 
left  a  whole  road  full  of  stones  for  somebody  to  jolt 
over.  Poor  old  Eliot  can't  think  of  me  as  anything 
else  than  an  imp  of  selfishness,  for  I'm  always  mak- 
ing it  hard  for  her,  and  she's  a  *  stranger  in  a  strange 


236     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

land,'  and  I  ought  to  have  remembered  that  she  has 
feelings  as  well  as  I  have,  even  if  she  is  a  servant. 
And  now  Betty's  eyes  —  " 

She  turned  over  on  the  bed,  face  downward,  and 
began  to  cry.  It  was  just  then  that  Mrs.  Sherman 
tapped  at  the  door.  For  almost  an  hour  Lloyd  could 
hear  the  low  murmur  of  voices  going  on  inside  the 
room,  and  knew  that  Eugenia  was  hearing  now  what 
she  had  always  most  sorely  needed,  a  sympathetic, 
motherly  talk.  If  she  could  have  had  that  loving 
advice,  those  straightforward  words  of  warning,  long 
ago,  how  much  they  might  have  done  for  the  mother- 
less child.  As  it  was,  that  hour  opened  Eugenia's 
eyes  to  many  things,  and  awakened  a  desire  to  grow 
more  like  the  gentle  woman  beside  her,  sweet  and 
sincere,  unselfish  and  helpful. 

Great  was  Mr.  Forbes's  surprise  one  day,  when  he 
opened  a  letter  from  Eugenia  in  the  dining-room  at 
the  Waldorf,  to  find  that  it  covered  eight  pages,  and 
was  blistered  in  several  places,  as  if  she  had  dropped 
a  tear  or  two  as  she  wrote.  Usually  she  had  a  favour 
to  ask  when  she  wrote,  and  scrawled  only  a  page  or 
two  ;  but  this  told  the  story  of  Betty's  blindness,  her 
own  part  in  the  affair,  and  all  that  she  had  learned 
about  the  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart.  The  newspaper 
clipping  that  Betty  had  treasured  was  enclosed,  that 


''THE  ROAD   OF  THE  LOVING  HEART.""     237 

he  might  read  for  himself  the  story  of  Tusitala  that 
had  left  such  an  impression  on  her. 

The  letter  touched  him  as  nothing  had  done  for 
years,  and  he  read  it  a  second  time  while  he  was 
going  up  to  his  office  on  the  elevated.  Then  at 
lunch-time,  while  he  waited  in  his  club-room,  for  lunch 
o  be  served,  he  took  it  out  and  read  it  again.  All 
that  busy  day  between  the  demands  that  business 
made  on  him,  and  once  even  in  the  midst  of  dictat- 
ing to  his  typewriter,  his  thoughts  kept  turning  to 
that  far-away  island  in  the  Southern  seas,  where 
Tusitala' s  road  gleams  white  under  the  tropic  sun. 
He  had  met  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  once,  the  tale- 
teller of  Eugenia's  story,  and  he  well  understood  the 
influence  of  that  noble  life  over  the  old  chiefs  who 
called  him  "  brother." 

The  words  that  Eugenia  had  quoted  in  her  letter 
rang  in  his  ears  all  day,  every  way  he  turned  :  "  Fame 
dies  and  honours  perish,  but  loving-kindness  is  immor- 
taV  He  seemed  to  hear  them  when  a  poor  woman 
came  into  his  office,  asking  for  a  position  for  her  son. 
They  stopped  the  curt  refusal  on  his  lips,  and  caused 
him  to  take  half  an  hour  of  his  precious  time  to  help 
her. 

He  heard  them  again  when  a  case  was  reported  to 
him  of  a  man  living  in  one  of  his  tenement-houseSj 


238      THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

who  could  not  pay  his  rent"  because  he  was  too  ill  to 
work,  and  could  not  hope  to  recover  in  his  present 
surroundings.  The  stifling^  heat  of  the  crowded  ten- 
ement was  killing  him.  In  his  weakened  condition 
he  was  slowly  sinking  under  his  burden  of  debt  and 
worry,  and  the  thought  that  his  helpless  family  was 
almost  starving  and  would  be  left  uncared  for  when 
he  died. 

Mr.  Forbes  turned  away  with  an  impatient  frown 
from  his  collector's  report,  but  that  voice  from  far 
Samoa  seemed  to  speak  again.  It  was  Tusitala's, 
and  again  he  saw  the  road  dug  to  last  for  ever,  in  the 
white  light  of  the  tropic  skies.  He  sat  with  his  head 
on  his  hand  a  moment,  and  then,  slowly  reaching  for 
his  check-book  filled  out  a  blank,  signed  it,  and  sealed 
it  in  an  envelope. 

Pushing  it  toward  his  astonished  collector,  he  said  : 
**  Here,  Miller,  take  that  down  to  Wiggins,  and  tell 
him  I  said  to  pick  up  himself  and  family,  and  go 
down  to  the  seashore  for  a  couple  of  weeks.  It  will 
put  them  all  on  their  feet  again  to  get  out  of  that 
place  into  the  salt  air,  and,  wait  a  minute,  Miller,"  — 
as  the  collector  moved  off,  -™  "  take  him  a  receipt  for 
two  months'  rent." 

Miller  walked  away,  speechless  with  astonishment, 
but  he  had  found  his  tongue  by  the  time  he  got  back 


«  THE  ROAD   OF  THE  LOVING  HEART.  »      239 

He  went   into   the  private  office,  hat  in  hand,  and 
waited  patiently  until  Mr.  Forbes  looked  up. 

"Well?" 

"  Wiggins  says  to  tell  you,  sir,  that  he  will  write 
to  you  to-morrow,  but  if  you'll  excuse  me,  sir,  for 
meddling  in  what  is  none  of  my  business,  I'd  like 
you  to  know  before  then  what  a  little  heaven  on 
earth  you  have  made  in  that  tenement-house.  Wig 
gins  was  so  weak  he  could  hardly  sit  up,  and  he  cried 
for  pure  joy,  at  the  thought  of  getting  away.  He 
says  he  knows  it  will  save  his  life.  He  kept  wring- 
ing my  hand,  over  and  over,  and  saying,  *  It  isn't 
just  the  money  and  all  that  it  will  do  for  me  in  the 
way  of  unloading  me  of  that  debt  and  getting  my 
strength  back,  but  it's  the  kindness  of  it.  Miller,  the 
heavenly  kindness  of  it !  Doing  all  this  for  me  as  if 
he  had  been  my  brother ! '  " 

**  Thank  you,  Miller,"  said  Mr.  Forbes,  waving  him 
hastily  aside  and  turning  again  to  his  letters.  He 
seemed  impatient,  but  there  was  a  glow  in  his  heart 
that  made  the  world  seem  pleasanter  all  day. 

On  his  way  home  he  stopped  at  a  jeweller's,  and 
selected  a  little  ring.  It  was  only  a  simple  twist  of 
gold  tied  in  a  lover's  knot,  but  inside  he  had  them 
engrave  the  word,  '*  Ttisitala,'"  and  ordered  it  sent  to 
the  hotel  that  evening. 


240     THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Late  that  night  it  was  brought  up  to  his  room, 
where  he  sat  writing  a  letter  to  Eugenia.  He  had 
just  finished  the  paragraph  :  "I  am  sending  you  by 
this  mail  a  sort  of  talisman.  Maybe  the  daily  sight 
of  it  on  your  finger  will  be  a  helpful  reminder  of  that 
noble  life  that  shall  never  be  forgotten,  while  the 
Road  of  the  Loving  Heart  endures.  It  is  so  easy  to 
forget  to  take  time  to  be  kind.  I  find  it  so  in  my 
daily  rush  of  business.  I  shall  carry  your  letter  with 
me  as  a  reminder.  Tell  your  little  friend  Betty  so. 
The  ripple  she  started  will  circle  farther  than  she 
ever  dreamed." 

"  How  queer  for  me  to  be  saying  anything  like 
that  to  Eugenia,"  he  thought.  "  How  much  she 
must  have  changed  to  be  able  to  write  me  the  letter 
she  did."  He  opened  the  box  and  took  out  the  little 
ring.  As  he  turned  it  around  on  the  tip  of  his 
finger,  he  remembered  that  it  was  almost  time  for  her 
to  be  coming  home.  The  house  party  would  soon  be 
at  an  end. 

"  Hardly  worth  while  to  send  it  to  her, "  he 
thought.  "  She  will  be  coming  home  so  soon. 
When  we  are  down  at  the  seashore,  I  will  give  it 
to  her." 

The  letter  she  had  written  him  lay  open  on  the 
table  before  him.  That  letter,  blotted  with  penitent 


**THE  ROAD  OF  THE  LOVING  HEART."*      24 1 

tears,  had  brought  a  new  tenderness  into  his  heart 
for  her„  It  had  revealed  a  different  Eugenia  from 
the  one  he  had  been  accustomed  to  thinking  of  as  his 
httle  daughter.  Somehow  she  seemed  nearer  and 
dearer  than  she  had  ever  done  before,  and  he  wanted 
to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  tell  her  so.  The  next 
instant  the  thought  flashed  across  his  mind,  "  Well, 
why  not  ?  This  is  the  time  I  have  arranged  to  take 
my  vacation,  and  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  my 
going  down  to  Kentucky  after  her.  Jack  Sherman 
is  always  urging  me  to  visit  Locust,  and  I'll  give  the 
child  a  surprise.  She  dislikes  to  travel  with  only 
Eliot." 

Eugenia  knew  nothing  of  the  telegram  her  Cousin 
Elizabeth  received  next  morning,  so  several  days 
later  she  could  hardly  believe  her  eyes,  when  she 
saw  her  father  spring  out  of  the  carriage  in  front  of 
the  house,  and  come  bounding  up  the  steps,  between 
the  white  pillars  of  the  vine-covered  porch.  Tall, 
handsome,  smiling,  he  came  toward  her,  his  arms 
outstretched,  and,  after  one  amazed  glance,  she  ran 
into  them,  crying,  "  Oh,  papa !  papa !  I'm  so  glad  !  " 

"*  I  couldn't  do  without  my  little  girl  any  longer," 
he  said.     "I  had  to  come  for  her." 

Mrs.  Sherman  came  out  just  then  with  the  warm- 
est  of  welcomes,  and  Eugenia  rushed  up-stairs  for 


242     THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

a  moment,  to  tell  Betty  about  her  surprise  and 
to  hurry  Joyce  and  Lloyd  down  to  greet  her 
father. 

"  I  am  going  to  begin  all  over  again  now,"  she 
said  to  herself,  as  she  went  up  the  stairs.  "  I'll  be 
as  good,  and  sweet  to  him  as  he  deserves.  I'll  let 
him  see  how  proud  I  am  of  him,  too.  It's  queer, 
but  somehow  I  really  love  him  better  since  I  have 
thought  so  much  about  Betty's  Memory  roads.  Well, 
I  shall  certainly  try  my  best  from  now  on  to  leave  a 
happy  one  behind  for  him." 

He  gave  her  the  ring  that  night,  the  little  golden 
lover's  knot  with  the  name  of  Tusitala  engraved  in« 
side,  to  remind  her  always  of  the  Road  of  the  Loving 
Heart,  that  she  might  leave  in  the  world  after  her. 
With  her  head  on  his  shoulder  and  his  arm  around 
her,  they  talked  long,  and  freely  together,  as  they 
had  never  done  before. 

Once  he  looked  at  her  with  a  quizzical  little  smile. 
"I  never  realised  until  to-night,"  he  said,  "how  old 
you  are,  or  how  companionable  you  can  be.  But 
we'll  always  be  good  chums  after  this,  won't 
we  ? " 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  giving  his  ear  a  playful 
tweak,  and  mischievously  imitating  his  tone  and 
manner.  "And  I  never  realised  until   to-night   how 


*THE  ROAD   OF  THE  LOVING  HEART.''      243 

jroung  you  are,  or  how  companionable  you  can  be. 
I  believe  that  if  you'd  been  at  this  house  party  from 
the  beginning,  you'd  have  been  playing  with  us  by 
this  time,  like  Bobby  and  the  other  boys. 

"I  must  show  this  ring  to  the  girls,"  she  said, 
presently,  when  they  heard  Mrs.  Sherman  coming 
back.  Then  she  hesitated,  her  eyes  sparkling  with 
the  pleasure  of  a  sudden  thought. 

"  Oh,  papa,  I'd  like  to  give  Lloyd  and  Joyce  and 
Betty  each  a  ring  like  mine,  to  help  them  remember, 
you 'know,  and  as  a  souvenir  of  the  house  party. 
Don't  you  think  that  would  be  nice .-'  I  have  scarcely 
touched  my  allowance  this  month.  Couldn't  we  go 
to  the  city  to-morrow  and  get  them  .? " 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  answered  her  father.  "We'll 
ask  Cousin  Elizabeth  about  the  trains." 

Early  next  morning  Mr.  Forbes  and  Eugenia  went 
into  the  city  on  their  little  excursion,  and  scarcely 
had  they  gone  when  a  telegram  arrived  from  Mr. 
Sherman,  saying  he  would  be  home  on  the  noon 
train.  The  Little  Colonel  went  dashing  around  the 
house,  from  one  room  to  another,  calling  out  the 
news  in  the  greatest  excitement. 

"  Have  you  heard  it  ?  Papa  Jack's  comin* !  Grand- 
fathah  is  goin*  to  stay  several  weeks  longah,  buf 
Papa  Jack's  comin'  on  the  noon  train  to-day ! " 


244     ^^-^  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Some  one  else  came  on  that  noon  train,  some  one 
whom  Doctor  Fuller  met  in  his  buggy  and  took 
immediately  up  to  Locust.  It  was  the  oculist  who 
had  been  there  before.  Lloyd  was  so  excited  over 
her  father's  arrival  that  she  scarcely  noticed  they  were 
'■  in  the  house,  and  she  never  knew  when  they  gravely 
made  their  examination  of  Betty's  eyes  and  as  gravely 
went  away  again. 

But  late  that  afternoon,  Eugenia  and  her  father^ 
driving  up  from  the  station,  were  surprised  to  see 
a  cloud  of  dust  whirling  rapidly  down  the  road  to- 
ward them.  As  they  came  nearer  they  saw  that 
Tarbaby  was  in  the  centre  of  it,  and  on  his  bare  back 
perched  the  Little  Colonel,  the  hot  June  sun  beating 
down  on  her  bare  head  and  red  face.  As  she  came 
within  calling  distance,  she  waved  her  arms  frantic- 
ally to  stop  the  carriage,  and  shrieked  out,  at  the  top 
of  her  voice :  "  Papa  Jack's  home,  and,  oh,  Eugenia, 
Betty  can  see  f" 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  Eugenia  leaned  out 
eagerly. 

"  I  couldn't  wait  for  you  to  get  home,"  cried  the 
Little  Colonel.  "  As  soon  as  I  heard  the  train 
whistle  I  jumped  on  Tarbaby  without  a  saddle  or 
anything,  and  just  toak  down  heah  to  tell  you.  Of 
co'se  she  can't  use  her  eyes  much  fo'  a  long  time, 


^  THE   ROAD   OF  THE  LOVING  HEART"      245 

and  will  have  to  weah  a  shade  fo'  weeks,  but  when 
they  tested  her  eyes  she  saw  I  And  she  isn't  goin' 
to  be  blind  !  " 

Eugenia  gave  a  great,  deep  sigh  of  thankfulness, 
and  leaned  limply  back  in  the  carriage.  "  Oh,  papa," 
she  exclaimed,  "you  can't  imagine  what  a  relief  it  is 
to  hear  that !  I  felt  so  much  to  blame,  that  now 
it  seems  as  if  a  great  weight  had  been  lifted  off 
from  me." 

They  were  having  a  jubilee  in  Betty's  room  when 
Eugenia  and  her  father  reached  the  house.  Mrs. 
Sherman  told  them  so,  from  the  head  of  the  stairs 
and  called  them  to  come  on  up  and  join  in  it. 

It  was  a  very  quiet  jubilee.  The  doctor  had  in- 
sisted on  that ;  but  the  unspoken  joy  of  the  little  face 
on  the  pillow  made  happiness  in  every  heart.  It  was 
the  first  time  that  Mr,  Forbes  had  seen  Betty.  She 
was  lying  with  her  brown  curls  tossed  back  on  the 
pillows,  her  eyes  still  bandaged  ;  but  the  smile  on  the 
little  mouth  was  one  of  the  sweetest,  gladdest  things 
he  had  ever  seen.  Involuntarily  he  stooped  and 
kissed  her  softly  on  the  forehead. 

"  Who  is  it  ? "  asked  Betty,  reaching  out  a  won- 
iering  little  hand,  "  Eugenia's  father } " 

"Lloyd  calls  me  Cousin  Carl,"  answered  Mr. 
Forbes,  taking  the  groping  fingers  in  his,  "and  I 


246     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

think  that  the  little  Betty  that"  everybody  is  so  fond 
of  might  call  me  that,  too." 

"I'll  be  glad  to  —  Cousin  Carl,"  said  the  child, 
bashfully,  and  that  was  the  beginning  of  a  warm 
and  steadfast  friendship. 

Eugenia  waited  until  later,  when  her  father  and 
Mrs.  Sherman  had  left  the  room,  before  she  opened 
her  packages. 

"  Hold  fast  all  I  give  you ! "  she  exclamed,  gaily, 
tossing  a  tiny  white  box  into  Joyce's  lap  and  another 
into  Lloyd's,  But  the  third  one  she  opened,  and,  tak- 
ing out  the  ring  it  held,  slipped  it  on  Betty's  finger. 

-'They  are  all  like  the  one  papa  gave  me,"  she 
said,  "and  have  Tusitala's  name  inside  to  help  me 
remember  the  Memory  roads  that  Betty  told  us 
about." 

"  It  will  remind  me  of  more  than  that,"  said  Betty 
gratefully,  when  she  and  the  girls  had  expressed 
their  thanks  in  a  chorus  of  delighted  exclamations. 
"  It  will  remind  me  of  the  happiest  day  in  my  life. 
This  is  the  first  ring  I  ever  owned,"  she  added, 
turning  it  proudly  on  her  finger.  "  I  wish  I  could 
see  it."  Then,  with  a  gladness  in  her  voice  that 
thrilled  her  listeners,  —  "But  I  shall  see  it  some 
day !  Oh,  girls,  you  couldn't  know,  you  couldn't 
possibly    imagine    how   much   that   means   to    me, 


''THE  ROAD    OF   THE  LOVING  HEART.''      247 

unless  you'd  been  shut  up  as  I  have  in  this  awful 
darkness." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  Eugenia 
stooped  over  and  gave  her  a  quick,  impulsive  kiss. 
"Well,  your  blindness  did  some  good,  Betty,"  she 
said,  speaking  hurriedly  and  with  very  red  cheeks. 
"  It  made  me  see  how  hateful  and  selfish  I've  always 
been,  and  I'm  never  going  to  be  so  mean  again  to 
anybody  as  I  was  to  you.  I'm  trying  to  dig  a  road 
like  Tusitala's  and  I  never  would  have  thought  of  it, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

With  that  she  turned  hastily,  and,  running  across 
the  hall  to  her  own  room,  shut  the  door  behind  her 
with  a  bang. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

A    FEAST   OF   LANTERNS. 

The  first  week  of  July  had  come  to  an  end,  and 
with  it  came  the  end  of  the  house  party. 

"  Oh,  deah,"  croaked  the  Little  Colonel  like  a  dis- 
mal raven,  as  she  waited  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
for  the  girls  to  finish  dressing.  "This  is  the  la-st 
mawnin'  we'll  all  go  racin*  down  to  breakfast  to- 
gethah !  I'm  glad  that  Betty  isn't  goin'  away  lor 
a  while  longah.  If  you  all  had  to  leave  at  the 
same  time,  it  would  be  so  lonesome  that  I  couldn't 
stand  it." 

"  I  am  glad,  too,"  said   Betty,  groping  her  way 

slowly  out  of  her  room  with  a  green  shade  over  her 

eyes.     Her  long  night  was  nearly  over  now,  although 

il;  would    be  several  months   before  she  would   be 

allowed   to    read.     Her   godmother   had   written   to 

"'/Irs.    Appleton,    saying   that    she    wanted    to    keep 

Betty  with   her   until    her    eyes  were  stronger,  and 

the  child  had  clapped  her  hands  with  delight  when 

she  received  permission  to  stay,  never  dreaming  how 

346 


A  FEAST  OF  LANTERNS.  249 

long  it  would  be  before  she  ever  saw  the  Cuckoo's 
Nest  again. 

"This  is  the  la-st  time  we'll  ever  ride  together,'* 
sighed  Joyce,  as  she  mounted  CaHco  after  breakfast. 
"  Oh,  it  has  been  such  fun,  Lloyd,  and  I've  enjoyed 
this  little  clown  pony  more  than  I  can  ever  tell. 
He  is  the  dearest,  ugliest  little  beast  that  ever  wore 
a  halter,  and  I'll  never  forget  him  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  And  this  is  the  last  time  we  can  go  galloping  out 
of  this  gate  together,  and  see  the  boys  coming  up  the 
road  to  meet  us,"  cried  Eugenia.  "There  they  are, 
all  three  of  them.  Oh,  they  haven't  heard  the  news 
yet !     I'm  going  to  dash  on  ahead  and  tell  them." 

Eugenia's  news  was  that  she  was  going  abroad 
with  her  father  in  the  fall.  It  had  all  been  arranged 
since  he  came  to  Locust.  Finding  that  business 
required  one  of  the  members  of  his  firm  to  spend  a 
month  in  England,  he  telegraphed  back  to  the  office 
that  he  would  go. 

"  I  don't  know  which  is  the  most  excited  over  the 
prospect,  myself,  or  my  maid,"  said  Eugenia  to  the 
boys.  "  Poor  old  Eliot  is  simply  wild  with  delight 
at  the  thought  of  seeing  her  home  and  family  again, 
and  I  am  nearly  as  much  upset  as  she  is.  We're  to 
be  gone  five  or  six  months.  Papa  says  that  while 
we  are  over  there  we  might  as  well  go  the  rounds, 


250     THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

SO  maybe  we'll  spend  Christmas  in  France,  in  the  same 
place  that  Joyce  did." 

"  What  time  do  you  leave  Locust  to-night  ? "  asked 
Malcolm. 

"  On  the  ten  o'clock  train,  I  think,  Joyce  is  going 
with  us,  part  of  the  way,  as  papa  has  to  make  a  trip 
to  St.  Louis  before  we  go  back  to  New  York." 

"And  which  way  are  you  all  going  now.-"'  asked 
Keith.  The  others  had  joined  them,  and  the  seven 
ponies  were  standing  in  a  ring  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  their  noses  almost  touching. 

"We're  going  down  to  your  house,"  answerd 
Joyce,  "to  bid  your  Grandmother  Maclntyre  and 
Miss  Allison  good-bye.  They  have  been  so  good  to 
us  all  the  time  we  have  been  here.  Your  Aunt  Alli- 
son has  done  so  much  to  entertain  us,  and  as  for 
your  grandmother,  I  couldn't  begin  to  tell  you  how 
she  cheered  us  up  when  we  had  the  measles.  There 
was  something  from  her  every  day,  fruit  and  flowers 
and  wine  jellies  and  messages.  One  of  my  sweetest 
memories  of  Kentucky  will  be  of  your  beautiful 
grandmother." 

Instantly  both  the  boys  lifted  their  hats  in  acknowl- 
edgment, but  Keith  exclaimed  in  boyish  impatience, 
"  Oh,  pshaw  !  I  thought  we  were  all  going  over  to  the 
mill  this  morning.    The  last  time,  you  know.    There's 


•  A  FEAST  OF  LANTERNS.  2$  I 

no  need  of  your  going  down  to  bid  them  good- bye 
when  we'll  see  you  at  — " 

But  Lloyd  stopped  him  with  a  finger  on  her  lip 
and  a  threatening  shake  of  her  head.  "  Come  on !  " 
she  cried,  starting  Tarbaby  down  the  road  at  full 
gallop.  "We  can't  stand  heah  in  the  road  all 
day." 

Keith  dashed  after  her,  laying  a  detaining  hand  on 
her  bridle  when  he  reached  her  side.  "  What's  the 
matter,  Miss  Savage?"  he  asked.  "What  do  you 
mean,  by  shaking  your  head  at  me  in  that  way?" 

"  Can't  you  keep  a  secret  ?  "  she  demanded,  crossly. 
"You  know  well  enough  we  want  to  surprise  the 
girls  to-night." 

"  Oh,  I  forgot ! "  he  exclaimed,  clapping  a  hand 
over  his  mouth.  ^ 

"  They  are  not  to  know  a  thing  about  it  until  time 
to  light  the  lanterns,"  she  said,  severely.  "And  I 
think  it  would  be  very  rude  indeed  for  them  not  to 
make  a  good-bye  call  at  yo'  house  this  mawnin',  even 
if  you  all  are  comin'  up  to-night." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Lloyd,  leave  a  little  piece  of  me,  please 
ma'am,"  he  begged,  in  a  meek  voice.  "At  least 
enough  to  help  wind  up  the  house  party,  to-night. 
Say  you'll  forgive  me ! "  he  insisted,  clasping  his 
hands  together  and  looking  at  her  cross-eyed,  with 


2^2     THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

such  a  comical  expression  that  she  could  not  help 
laughing. 

The  last  time !  It's  the  last  time  !  They  said  it 
as  they  stopped  once  more  for  the  mail  at  the  little 
post-office ;  as  they  turned  regretfully  homeward  ;  as 
they  went  down  the  long  avenue  in  the  shade  of  the 
friendly  old  locusts.  They  said  it  again  when  they 
wandered  four  abreast,  and  arm  in  arm  about  the 
place,  for  a  farewell  glance  at  every  nook  and  corner, 
where  they  had  romped  and  played  in  the  five  weeks 
just  gone.  Even  when  the  words  were  not  wailed 
out  disconsolately  by  one  of  them  and  echoed  by 
the  others,  the  thought  that  each  thing  they  were 
doing  was  for  the  last  time,  went  with  them  like  a 
mournful  undercurrent. 

"  Did  you  ever  have  a  day  fly  by  as  fast  as  this 
one .? "  asked  Joyce  that  afternoon,  looking  up  from 
the  trunk  that  Mom  Beck  was  helping  her  to  pack. 
"  Here  it  is  nearly  six  o'clock,  and  I  haven't  been 
down  to  the  mulberry -tree.  I  wanted  one  more 
swing  on  the  grape-vine  swing  before  I  dressed  for 
dinner.  It's  like  flying  to  go  sailing  through  the  air, 
across  the  ravine,  on  that  grape-vine  that  covers 
the  mulberry-tree." 

"There  won't  be  time  now,"  said  the  Little 
Colonel,  casting  an  anxious  look  toward   the  front 


A  FEAST  OF  LANTERNS.  253 

windows.  If  ^  the  girls  had  not  been  so  busily  occu- 
pied, they  might  .have  noticed  how  she  had  been 
manoeuvring  for  some  time  to  keep  them  away  from 
the  front  windows.  She  even  took  them  down  the 
back  stairs  when  they  were  ready  for  dinner,  with 
the  excuse  that  she  wanted  them  to  see  the  hamper 
in  which  Joyce's  puppy  was  to  travel.  Eugenia's 
Bob  was  to  be  left  at  Locust  until  after  she  had 
made  her  trip  abroad. 

Joyce  had  a  fresh  blue  satin  ribbon  packed  away 
in  her  satchel  to  tie  around  her  Bob's  neck  just 
before  reaching  home.  "  Oh,  girls ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, "don't  you  know  that  those  children  are 
going  to  be  delighted  when  this  fat  little  dumpling 
comes  rolling  out  of  the  hamper.?  They  will  all 
grab  for  him  at  once,  and  Mary  will  be  so  tickled  she 
will  squeal.  She  always  does  when  she  is  excited, 
and  it  is  so  funny.  I  wish  I  could  hear  her  do  it 
this  blessed  minute.  Somehow  I  can  hardly  wait 
to  see  them  all  now,  although  I  don't  want  to  leave 
Locust  one  bit.     I  have  had  such  a  good  time  !  " 

Mom  Beck  came  out  just  then  to  tell  them  that 
dinner  was  waiting,  and  Lloyd  hurried  them  through 
the  back  hall  again,  although  she  herself  ran  to  the 
front  door  and  looked  out,  before  she  took  her  seat 
at  the  table.     It  was  a  merry  meal,  for  Papa  Jack 


254     ^-^^  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

told  his  best  stories,  and  Cousin  Carl,  as  they  all  called 
Mr.  Forbes  now,  recalled  his  funniest  jokes  to  make 
the  children  forget  how  near  they  had  come  to  the 
parting  hour.  And  when  the  dessert  was  brought 
on  they  sang  a  duet  they  had  learned  when  school- 
boys together,  at  which  every  one  laughed  until  the 
tears  stood  in  their  eyes. 

While  they  lingered  at  the  table,  Alec  and  Walker 
and  Mom  Beck,  and  all  the  servants  on  the  place 
who  could  lend  a  hand,  were  turning  the  lawn  into 
fairy-land.  They  had  been  busy  for  several  hours 
putting  up  strings  of  lanterns,  and  now  they  were 
lighting  them,  row  after  row.  Big  lanterns,  and 
little  lanterns,  round  ones  and  square,  of  every 
size,  colour,  and  shape,  lit  up  the  darkness  of 
the  summer  night.  Huge  red  dragons  swung  be- 
tween the  white,  vine-covered  pillars  of  the  porch. 
Luminous  fish  and  beasts  and  birds,  hanging  from 
the  shrubs  and  trees  on  the  lawn,  set  every  bough 
a-twinkle,  while  all  through  the  grass  and  all  through 
the  flower  beds  the  flashing  of  hundreds  of  tiny  fairy 
lamps  made  it  seem  as  if  the  glow-worms  were 
holding  carnival. 

There  were  tents  pitched  on  the  lawn  and  tables 
set  out  here  and  there,  and  every  tent  was  brilliant 
with  festoons  of  light  and  every  table  had  a  canopy 


LET  S  ALL  SIT  DOWN  ON  THE  STEPS. 


A  FEAST  OF  LANTERNS.  255 

fringed  with  flaming  balls  of  ruby  and  emerald  and 
amber.  But  the  most  beautiful  part  of  the  whole 
dazzling  scene  was  the  old  locust  avenue,  strung 
from  top  to  bottom  with  lights.  The  trees  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  burst  into  bloom  with  stars,  when 
all  down  that  long  arch,  from  entrance  gate  to 
mansion,  shone  the  soft  glow  of  a  myriad  welcoming 
lanterns. 

"  Let's  all  sit  down  on  the  steps  and  enjoy  it  before 
the  people  begin  to  come,"  said  the  Little  Colonel, 
after  the  first  burst  of  surprise  and  enthusiastic 
admiration  was  over. 

"  Everybody  in  the  Valley  will  be  heah  in  a  little 
bit  to  say  good-bye  to  you  all,  and  we  told  'em  to 
come  early,  because  your  train  leaves  so  soon." 

Even  as  she  spoke  there  was  a  sound  of  wheels 
turning  in  at  the  gate,  and  the  band  in  the  honey- 
suckle arbour  began  tuning  their  violins.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  place  was  gay  with  many  voices,  and 
people  were  streaming  back  and  forth  over  the  lawn 
and  porches.  Grown  people  as  well  as  children  were 
there.  All  who  had  been  at  the  pillow-case  party ; 
all  who  had  entertained  the  girls  in  any  way,  and  all 
who  had  been  friends  of  Betty's  mother  and  Joyce's 
in  their  girlhood. 

After  awhile,  when  the  guests  were  being  served 


256     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

with  refreshments,  under  the  lantern-hung  canopies  on 
the  lawn,  Mr,  Forbes  looked  around  for  Betty.  She 
was  nowhere  to  be  found  at  first,  but  presently  he 
stumbled  over  her  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  porch,  with 
her  shade  pulled  over  her  eyeSo 

"It's  too  bad  you  can't  enjoy  it  like  the  rest  of  us," 
he  said,  sympathetically. 

"  I  am  enjoying  it  with  all  my  heart,  Cousin  Carl," 
protested  Betty.  "  I  have  raised  my  shade  half  a 
dozen  times  and  taken  a  quick  glance  around,  and 
the  music  is  so  sweet,  and  everybody  comes  up  and 
says  nice  things  to  me.  I  would  be  perfectly  happy 
if  I  didn't  keep  thinking  that  this  is  the  last  of  our 
good  times  together,  and  in  a  little  while  I  shall  have 
to  say  good-bye  to  Eugenia  and  Joyce.  You  know  I 
never  knev/  any  girls  before,"  she  added,  confi- 
dentially, "and  you  can't  imagine  how  much  I  have 
enjoyed  them." 

"Come,  walk  down  to  the  gate  with  me,"  said  Mr. 
Forbes,  presently ;  "  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 
She  lifted  her  shade  an  instant  as  they  started  down 
the  long  arch  of  light,  and  gave  one  quick  glance 
down  the  entire  way.  "  Isn't  it  glorious  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  It  looks  as  if  it  might  be  the  road  to  the 
City  of  the  Shining  Ones  !  " 

Then  with  a  sigh  shfi  drojDped  her  shade,  and,  slip- 


A    FEAST  OF  LANTERNS.  2$^ 

ping  her  hand  into  his,  let  him  lead  her,  as  she  walked 
along  with  closed  eyes. 

"You  are  an  appreciative  little  puss,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

As  they  walked  on  under  the  glowing  arch,  hand 
in  hand,  he  told  her  that  he  was  coming  back  for  her 
in  the  fall ;  that  Eugenia  wanted  her  to  go  abroad 
with  them,  and  that  he  thought  such  an  arrangement 
would  be  good  for  both  the  girls.  Good  for  Eugenia, 
because  otherwise  she  would  often  be  left  for  days  at 
a  time  with  only  Eliot  for  a  companion,  when  he  was 
away  on  business.  Good  for  Betty,  since  she  could 
be  enjoying  the  advantages  of  travel  at  a  time  wl^en 
she  could  not  be  using  her  eyes  to  study. 

"You  shall  see  Abbotsford,"  he  said,  "and  Bums's 
country,  and  go  to  Shakespeare's  home.  And  you 
shall  coach  among  the  English  lakes  where  Words- 
worth learned  to  write.  Then  there  is  Rome,  on  her 
seven  hills,  you  know,  and  the  canals  of  Venice  and 
the  Dutch  windmills  and  the  Black  Forest.  You 
shall  hear  the  legends  of  all  the  historic  rivers  you 
cross  and  mountains  you  climb,  and  listen  to  the 
music  of  the  Norwegian  waterfalls.  Don't  you  think 
it  will  help  you  to  be  a  better  tale-teller  for  the  chil- 
dren, some  day,  my  little  'Tusitala.?  * 

"You  see  your  godmother  has  been   telling  me 


258     THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY, 

some  of  your  secrets  and  showing  me  some  of  youf 
poems  and  stories.  What  do  you  say,  Betty  ?  Will 
you  go  ? " 

"Will  I  go?"  cried  Betty,  joyfully,  holding  his 
hand  tight  in  both  her  own  and  pressing  it  lovingly  to 
her  cheek.  "  Oh,  Cousin  Carl !  You  might  as  well 
ask  me  if  I  would  go  to  heaven  if  a  big  strong  angel 
had  come  down  on  purpose  to  carry  me  up !  Oh, 
why  is  everybody  so  good  to  me?  I  can't  under- 
stand it." 

They  had  reached  the  gate,  and  were  turning  to 
walk  back  to  the  house.  Mr.  Forbes  laid  his  hand 
on  the  brown  curly  head  with  a  fatherly  touch. 

"  I'll  tell  you  some  day,"  he  said,  "  when  there  ia 
more  time.  It  is  all  because  of  that  road  you  dis- 
covered, little  one,  that  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart 
I  don't  wear  a  ring  as  Eugenia  does,  to  remind  me 
of  it,  but  I've  been  carrying  the  inspiration  of  it  in 
my  memory,  ever  since  she  wrote  me  all  that  you 
had  taught  her  about  it." 

They  walked  slowly  back  to  the  house  together 
under  the  locusts  that  arched  their  star-blossomed 
boughs  above  them.  The  band  was  playing  softly, 
and  Betty,  uplifted  by  the  music,  the  lights,  and  the 
good  fortune  in  store  for  her,  could  hardly  believs 
that  her  feet  were  touching  the  earth.     She  seemed 


i 


A   FEAST  OF  LANTERNS.  259 

to  be  floating  along  in  some  sort  of  dreamland.  The 
old  feeling  swept  over  her  that  always  came  with  the 
music  of  the  harp.  It  was  as  if  she  were  away  off 
from  everything,  her  head  among  the  stars,  and 
strange,  beautiful  thoughts  that  she  had  no  words 
for  danced  on  ahead  like  shining  will-o'-the-wisps. 

Joyce  was  the  first  to  share  her  good  fortune,  and 
while  she  was  telling  it  Eugenia  came  up  with  another 
joyful  announcement. 

"  We  are  going  to  Tours,"  she  cried,  "  and  across 
the  Loire  to  St.  Symphorien,  where  Joyce  stayed 
all  winter.  And  we'll  see  the  Gate  of  the  Giant 
Scissors,  and  little  Jules  who  lives  there." 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Joyce.  "  You  must  get 
Madame  Greville  to  show  you  everything  ;  the  kiosk 
in  the  old  garden  where  we  had  our  Thanksgiving 
barbecue ;  the  coach-house  where  we  shut  up  the 
goats  that  day  when  they  chewed  the  cushions  of 
the  pony-cart  to  pieces ;  and  the  room  where  we 
had  the  Christmas  tree,  and  the  laurel  hedges  in 
bloom  —  oh,  I'm  so  glad  you're  going  to  see  them 
all" 

«  What's  that  }  "  asked  the  Little  Colonel,  coming 
up  behind  them  ;  and  then  Betty  told  her,  too. 

"  Only  think  !  Lloyd  Sherman,"  she  added,  giving 
her  a  rapturous  hug,  "  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  it  never 


260    THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOUSE  PARTY. 

would  have  happened.  It's  all  because  you  had  this 
delightful  house  party  and  invited  me  to  come." 

"  Here  comes  Mrs.  Maclntyre,"  interrupted  Joyce, 
in  a  low  tone.  "  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  fine 
and  soft  and  fluffy  as  that  beautiful  white  hair  of 
hers }  It  looks  like  a  crimped  snow-drift.  I  wouldn't 
mind  being  a  grandmother  to-morrow  if  I  could  look 
like  that." 

She  came  up  smiling,  and  beckoned  the  fjirls  to 
follow  her.  "  I  want  to  show  you  something  comical," 
she  said.  "  I  just  discovered  it."  She  led  the  way 
to  the  end  of  the  porch,  and  there,  standing  irji  a  row, 
were  six  little  darkies,  so  black  that  their  faces  scarcely 
showed  against  the  black  background  of  the  night. 
Only  their  rolling  white  eyeballs  and  gleaming;  teeth 
could  be  seen  distinctly. 

"  They  are  Allison's  proteges,"  she  said.  "  Sylvia 
Gibbs's  children,  you  know.  They  are  always  on  the 
outskirts  of  all  the  festivities  when  they  think  they 
can  pick  up  any  crumbs  in  the  way  of  refreshments. 
But  they'll  have  some  good  excuse  to  give  for 
coming,   you  may   be   sure." 

"  Oh,  they  are  the  children  who  acted  the  charades 
at  the  old  mill  picnic,"  said  Eugenia,  drawing  nearer. 

"Get  them  to  talk  if  you  can,  Mrs.  MaclD*:yre 
Please  do." 


A  FEAST  OF  LANTEXNS.  261 

Except  for  a  broader  grin  in  token  that  they  heard 
Mrs.  Maclntyre's  questions,  they  were  as  unrespon< 
sive  as  six  little  black  kittens,  and  Keith,  coming  up 
just  then,  was  sent  to  find  Miss  Allison.  "They 
always  talk  for  auntie,"  he  said.  "She  is  over  in 
one  of  the  tents,  and  I'll  go  get  her." 

Keith  was  right.  Miss  Allison  proved  the  key 
that  unlocked  every  little  red  tongue,  and  thev 
answered   her   questions   glibly. 

"  We  don  brought  sumpin  to  Miss  'Genia,"  stam- 
mered Tildy,  shyly.  "  M'haley,  she  got  a  chicken  in 
dis  yere  box  wot  she  gwine  to  give  to  Miss  'Genia  to 
take  away  wid  her  on  de  kyars." 

"  A  chicken  !  "  repeated  Miss  Allison,  laughing. 
**What  did  M'haley  bring  Miss  Eugenia  a  chicken 
for.?" 

•*  'Cause  Miss  'Genia,  she  give  M'haley  her  hat  wid 
roses  on  it  ovah  to  the  ole  mill  picnic,  when  it  fell  in 
de  spring  an*  got  wet,  and  we  brought  her  a  chicken 
to  take  away  on  de  kyars  fo*  a  pet." 

An  old  bandbox  tied  with  brown  twine  was  promptly 
hoisted  up  from  the  outer  darkness  into  the  light  of 
the  red  dragon  lanterns  on  the  porch.  The  sides  had 
been  pricked  with  a  nail  to  admit  air,  and  the  lid  was 
cut  in  slits.  Through  these  slits  they  could  discover 
a  half -grown  chicken,  cowering  sleepily  on  the  bottora 


262     THE  LITTLE  COLONELS  HOUSE  i'ARTY. 

of  the  box.  It  was  a  mottled  brown  one,  with  its  wing 
feathers  growing  awkwardly  in  the  wrong  direction. 

'•Imagine  me  carrying  this  into  the  Waldorf," 
laughed  Eugenia,  when  she  had  expressed  het 
thanks,  and  Mora  Beck  had  been  called  to  take  the 
children  away  and  give  them  cake  and  cream  in 
the  background. 

"But  you'll  have  to  take  it,"  said  Miss  Allison^ 
'*at  least  to  the  station,  for  you  may  be  sure  they'll 
be  on  hand  to  see  you  start,  and  their  feelings  would 
be  sadly  hurt  if  you  didn't  take  it,  at  any  rate  out  o4 
their  sight." 

It  was  time  for  the  ieave-takmgs  to  begin.  Joyce 
and  Eugenia  put  on  their  hats,  and  Eliot  hurried  out 
with  the  satchels  as  the  carriage  drove  up.  At  the 
last  moment  Mom  Beck  waylaid  thera  in  the  Iiall 
with  two  huge  bundles. 

"I  couldn't  do  nothm'  else  fo"  you  chiliun,"  she 
said,  as  she  offered  them.  "Ole  Becky  ain't  got 
much  to  give  but  her  blessin',,  but  I  can  cook  yit, 
and  I  done  made  you  a  big  spice  cake  apiece,  and 
icened  it  with  icin*  an  inch  thick." 

The  girls  thanked  her  till  her  black  face  beamed, 
but  they  looked  at  each  other  ruefully  when  they 
were  in  the  carriage, 

"  How  I  am  ever  to  reach  New  York  witli  a  b^' 


A  FEAST  OF  LANTERNS,  26$ 

frosted  cake  in  my  arms  is  more  than  I  know,"  said 
Eugenia.  '•  I'll  have  to  cut  it  up  and  pass  it  around 
on  the  train." 

"But  think  of  me,"  groaned  Joyce.  *'I  have  my 
cake  and  Bob,  too,  and  nobody  to  carry  my  satchel 
and  umbrella." 

The  kissing  and  hand-shaking  began,  and  a  cross- 
fire of  good-byes.  "Give  my  love  to  your  mother, 
Joyce."  "Write  to  me  first  thing,  Eugenia."  "Good- 
bye, Betty."  "Good-bye,  Lloyd."  "Keith  and  I 
won't  make  our  adieux  now ;  we'll  follow  you  to  the 
station  and  see  you  off  on  the  train."  "  Good-bye ! 
Good-bye,  everybody !  " 

At  last  the  carriage  started  on,  but  was  brought 
to  a  halt  by  a  shrill  call  from  Rob.  They  looked 
back  to  see  him  standing  on  the  porch  beside  the 
Little  Colonel,  who  was  excitedly  waving  a  bunch  of 
flowers  which  she  had  been  carrying  all  evening. 
The  light  from  the  red  lantern  above  her  threw  a 
rosy  glow  over  the  graceful  little  figure,  the  soft 
light  hair,  and  smiling,  upturned  face.  That  is  the 
picture  they  carried  away  with  them. 

"  Wait !  "  she  cried,  a  smile  dimpling  her  cheeks, 
and  shining  with  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 
"  Wait !  You've  forgotten  something  I  Eugenia's 
chicken  I  '* 


264    THE  LITTLE  COLONEVS  HOUSE  PARTY. 

Little  Jim  Gibbs  came  running  after  them  with  it, 
and  Mr.  Forbes  lifted  it  up  beside  the  hamper  thai 
held  Joyce's  puppy. 

*•  Oh,  I've  sat  on  my  cake  and  mashed  it,"  moanef' 
y--  Joyce,  as  she  moved  over  to  make  a  place  for  the 
dilapidated  old  bandbox.  "  How  do  you  suppose 
we're  ever  going  to  get  home  with  such  a  mixture  of 
frosted  cakes  and  puppies  and  chickens,  and  all  the 
keepsakes  that  those  boys  piled  on  to  us  at  the 
last  moment." 

It  was  amid  much  laughter  that  the  carriage 
moved  on  again.  Down  the  long  avenue  they  went, 
under  that  glowing  arch,  spangled  as  if  with  stars, 
and  every  friendly  old  locust  held  up  all  its  twinkling 
lanterns  to  light  them  on  their  way.  Half-way  down 
the  path  the  band  began  to  play  "  My  Old  Kentucky 
Home,"  and,  leaning  far  out  of  the  carriage,  Eugenia 
and  Joyce  looked  back  once  more  to  wave  a  loving 
good-bye  to  the  Littk?  ColoneL 


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FAMOUS  CAVALRY  LEADERS 

"  More  of  such  books  should  be  written,  books  that 
acquaint  young  readers  with  historical  personages  in  a 
pleasant,  informal  way."  —  New  York  Sun. 

FAMOUS  INDIAN  CHIEFS 

"  Mr.  Johnston  has  done  faithful  work  in  this  volume, 
and  his  relation  of  battles,  sieges  and  struggles  of  these 
famous  Indians  with  the  whites  for  the  possession  of 
America  is  a  worthy  addition  to  United  States  History." 
—  New  York  Marine  Journal. 

FAMOUS  SCOUTS 

"  It  is  the  kind  of  a  book  that  will  have  a  great  fascina- 
tion for  boys  and  young  men."  —  New  London  Day. 

FAMOUS  PRIVATEERSMEN  AND  ADVEN- 
TURERS OF  THE  SEA 

"The  tales  are  more  than  merely  interesting;  they  are 
entrancing,  stirring  the  blood  with  thrilling  force."  — 
Pittsburgh  Post. 

FAMOUS  FRONTIERSMEN  AND  HEROES  OF 
THE  BORDER 

"The  accounts  are  not  only  authentic,  but  distinctly 
readable,  making  a  book  of  wide  appeal  to  all  who  love 
the  history  of  actual  adventure."  —  Cleveland  Leader. 

FAMOUS  DISCOVERERS  AND  EXPLORERS 
OF  AMERICA 

"  The  book  is  an  epitome  of  some  of  the  wildest  and 
bravest  adventures  of  which  the  world  has  known."  — 
Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

FAMOUS  GENERALS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 

Who  Led  the  United  States  and  Her  Allies  to  a  Glo- 
rious Victory. 

"The  pages  of  this  book  have  the  charm  of  romance 
without  its  unreality.     The  book  illuminates,  with  life- 
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A— 6 


BOOKS  FOB  YOUNG  PEOPLE 


FAMOUS    LEADERS    SERIES    (Con.) 

By  Bdwik  Wildman 

FAMOUS    LEADERS    OF    IMDUSTRY.— First 

Series 

"Are  these  stories  interesting?  Let  a  boy  read  tfaem; 
and  tell  yon.  He  will  pick  out  '  the  best  macinne 
gun  in  the  world;'  the  man  who  worked  eighteen  to 
twenty  hours  a  day;  the  man  who  kodaked  the  earth; 
the  inventor  who  died  in  debt;  the  case  in  which  Lincoln 
earned  bis  first  fee;  the  secret  of  Woolworth's  success 
and  the  man  who  says  '  I  can't  be  bothered  eating.'  "— 
Boston  Transcript. 

FAMOUS  LEADERS  OF  INDUSTRY.— Second 

Series 

"  As  fascinating  as  fiction  are  these  biographies, 
which  emphasize  their  humble  beginning  and  drive 
home  the  truth  that  just  as  every  soldier  of  Napoleon' 
carried  a  marshal's  baton  in  his  knapsack,  so  every 
American  youngster  carries  potential  success  under  his 
hat." — New  York  World. 

FAMOUS  LEADERS  OF  CHARACTER:  In 
America  from  the  Latter  Half  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century 

"  An  informing,  interesting  and  inspiring  book  for 
boys." — Presbytericm-  Banner. 

"...  Is  a  book  that  should  be  read  by  every  boy  in 
the  whole  country.  .  .  .  " — Atlanta  Constitution. 

"  Opportunity  beckons  every  boy,  and  this  book  may 
suggest    the    route   to    be    followed.     It   is    well    worth 
reading." — Cortland  Standard. 
A— 7 


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WORKS  OF  EVALEEN  STEIN 

THE  CHRISTMAS  PORRINGER 

ISmo,  doth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Adelaide 

Everhart $1.50 

This  story  happened  many  hundreds  of  years  ago  in 
the  quaint  Flemish  city  of  Bruges  and  concerns  a  little 
girl  named  Karen,  who  worked  at  lace-making  with  her 
aged  grandmother. 

GABRIEL  AND  THE  HOUR  BOOK 

Small  quarto,  cloth   decorative,  illustrated   and 

decorated  in  colors  by  Adelaide  Everhart     .     .     $1.50 

"No  works  in  juvenile  fiction  contain  so  many  of  the 

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A  LITTLE  SHEPHERD  OF  PROVENCE 

12mo,   cloth  decorative,  illustrated   by   Diantha 

H.  Marlowe $1.50 

"The   story   should  be  one  of  the  influences   in   the 

life  of  every  child  to  whom  good  stories   can  be  made 

to  appeal." — Public  Ledger. 

THE  LITTLE  COUNT  OF  NORMANDY 

12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  John  Goss    $1.50 

"  This    touching    and    pleasing    story    is    told    with    a 

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WHEN  FAIRIES  WERE  FRIENDLY 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated $1.65 

"  These  stories  are  written  for  children  in  the  *  believ- 
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Mercdd,  Lexington,  Ky. 

"  The  stories  are  music  in  prose — they  are  like  pearls 
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A— 8 


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MR.  DO  SOMETHING;  Of  the  Island  of  Make 
Believe 

By  Blanche  E.  Wade. 

With  8  plates  in  full  color,  and  many  other 
illustrations,  cloth  decorative,  12mo  ....  $1.75 
The  pervading  genius  of  the  story  is  "  Do  Some- 
thing," a  roly-poly  fairy,  who  is  the  embodiment  of  all 
that  is  bright  and  sunshiny.  He  wears  a  continuous 
smile  and  is  forever  on  the  move,  making  up  new  games 
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ever banished. 

DENISE  OF  THE  THREE  PINES 

By  Edith  A.  Sawyer. 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated $1.65 

Denise  is  a  modern  heroine,  brave  and  laughter- 
loving,  with  all  the  appeal  and  charm  which  go  to 
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LOVE  ME,  LOVE  MY  DOG 

By  Carolyn  Verhoeff. 

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Imagine  yourself  in  this  position, — a  little  girl,  mov- 
ing with  your  family  to  a  new  community,  where  the 
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house  come  a  little  orphan  and  her  dog,  Billy.  This  is 
the  story  of  the  blossoming  of  little  Constance's  charac- 
ter under  the  loving  influence  of  the  little  orphan.  And 
Billy,  the  dog,  is  quite  an  important  character,  as  you 
will  see. 

LITTLE  GLAD  HEART 

By  Linda  Stevens  Almond. 

Qoth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated $1.65 

This  story  is  marked  by  a  timely  point  of  view.  The 
gtery  tells  of  the  Warwick  family,  father,  mother,  Vir- 
gmia  and  Joan.  Mr.  Warwick  has  sent  Virginia  to 
school  at  a  great  sacrifice,  and  the  association  with  girls 
of  wealthy  parents  has  made  her  dissatisfied  with  the 
smifjlicity  of  her  home.  In  contrast  to  Virginia's 
hAvteiir  and  selfishness  are  the  kiadly  deeds  of  Joan, 
"  Littie  Glad  Heart." 
A—® 


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A  LITTLE  CANDY  BOOK  FOR  A  LITTLE  GIRL 

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"  This  is  a  peculiarly  interesting  little  book,  written  in 
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A  LITTLE  COOK-BOOK  FOR  A  LITTLE  GIRL 

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A   LITTLE   HOUSEKEEPING   BOOK   FOR    A 
LITTLE  GIRL 

By  Carolina  French  Benton. 

A  little  gir3,  home  from  school  on  Saturday  mornings, 
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GIRL 

By  Louise  Frances  Cornell, 

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her  mother,  and  shows  how  her  mother  taught  her  the 
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aid  materially."  —  Wilmington  Every  Evening. 

A    LITTLE    PRESERVING    BOOK    FOR    A 
LITTLE    GIRL 

By  Amy  L.  Waterman. 

In   simple,   clear   woyding,   Mrs.   Waterman   explains 
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fruits  and  vegetables. 
A  LITTLE  GARDENING  BOOK  FOR  A  LITTLE 

GIRL 

By  Peter  Martin. 

This  little  volume  is  an  excellent  guide  for  the  young 
»ardener.    In  addition  to  truck  gardening,  the  book  gives 
vfilnable   information   on   flowers,   the   planning   of   ttie 
garden,  seleeMon  of  varieties,  etc 
/V  — 10 


